BRANDONS 


-•»•.*•• 


KATHARINE  T-YNAN 


THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS 


ESTHER   WAS  SITTING  AT   OONA's   FEET  GAZING  INTO  THE   HEART 
OF   THE   FIRE." 


THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS 


BY 


KATHARINE    TYNAN 

Author  of  "The  Dear  Irish  Girl"  "She  Walks  in  Beauty 
"  Oh,  what  a  Plague  is  Love ! "  &c. 


WITH   TWELVE  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  GERTRUDE  DEXAItf  HAMMOffD,  R.I. 


CHICAGO 
A.   C.   M'CLURG    &    CO 

1901 


CONTENTS. 


CIIAP.  Page 

I.  CASTLE  BBANDON  AND  CASTLE  ANGBY, 9 

II.  WE  BRANDONS, 21 

III.  ANNAGASSAN  RACES, 31 

IV.  I  PAY  THE  RECKONING, 42 

V.  FREDA 52 

VI.     "HOW   OPT    HAS    THE    BANSHEE   CRIED?" 66 

VII.  A  TRUE  WORD  SPOKEN  IN  JEST, 77 

VIII.  THE  STRANGER  WITHIN  THE  GATE, 87 

IX.  AN  IMPOSSIBLE  FRIENDSHIP 100 

X.  FROM  THE  NIGHT  AND  THE  STORM 109 

XI.  A  FAIRY  GODMOTHER, 120 

XII.  A  SECRET  ROOM, 132 

XIII.  CINDERELLA, 142 

XIV.  THE  ROMAUNT  OF  THE  ROSE, 156 

XV.  PIERCE  GOES  ON  A  JOURNEY, 168 

XVI.  HONEY  AMONG  THE  ROSES, 179 

XVII.  THE  MASTER  OP  ROSE  HILL,      .     , 192 

XVIII.  THE  STORY  OP  A  SORROW, 204 

XIX.  I  VISIT  THE  GREAT  WORLD, 215 

XX.  FREDA'S  MYSTERY, 227 

XXI.  FREDA  BREAKS  SILENCE,   .     .     .     .  • 239 


S13377O 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  Page 

XXII.   BOOKS  AND  SOLDIERS, 253 

XXIII.  ESTHER, 266 

XXIV.  SIR  RUPERT, 279 

XXV.     "WlLL   YE   NO   COME   BACK   AGAIN?" 291 

XXVI.  THE  UGLY  DUCKLING 305 

XXVII.  THE  WEB  OP  THE  SPIDER, 318 

XXVIII.  OUT  OP  THE  WEB, 329 

XXIX.  THE  LAST  OP  CASTLE  ANGRY 342 

XXX.   WEDDING-BELLS, 354 

XXXI.  ONCE  AND  FOR  EVER, 365 

XXXII.  THE  RESTORATION  OP  BRANDON, .  376 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


I'age 

"ESTHER  WAS  SITTING  AT  OONA'S  FEET  GAZINO  INTO  THE  HEART 
OP  THE  FIRE," Frontis.     88 

"THEY  USED  TO  WALK  TOGETHER  A  GOOD  DEAL  IN  THE  WOODS,"  28 
"MY  POOR  LITTLE  GIRL,  I  AM  AFRAID  YOU  ARE  HURT,"  ...     43 

"WHAT  A  FIGURE  OF  A  MAN  YOUR  GRANDFATHER  WAS!  ...    I 
MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  YOUR  GRANDMOTHER!" 133 

"GARNETS!"  SAID  THE  OLD  LADY,  PEERING  CLOSELY.      "THEY 
ARE  NO  GARNETS," 153 

"NOW,  LOOK  HERE,"  HE  SAID  GRUFFLY,  "ARE  YOU  A  CLASSICAL 
HOUSEMAID?" 196 

"FREDA  CAME  BACK,  PROUDLY  LEADING  HER  SON,"      ....  238 

"  LADY  O'BRIEN  STOOD  UP  NOW  AND  SHOOK  AN  ANGRY  HEAD 
AT  HIM," 288 

"HE  WAS  AS  DISAGREEABLE  AS  MOST  GARDENERS  ABOUT  CUTTING 
HIS  FLOWERS," 302 

"HE  SEEN  THE  STONE  THAT  HAD  HIT  HIM,  AN*  A  BIT  OF  PAPER 
WRAPPED  AROUND  IT," 323 

"THE  RAVINE  WAS  FULL  OF  THE  BOG,  MOVING,  A  GREAT  BLACK 
SLUGGISH  MASS," 352 

"  I   CAN  ONLY   SAY,  MlSS   BRANDON,  THAT   I   LOVED   THE   LAD 
LIKE  A  SON," 379 


THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CASTLE   BRANDON   AND   CASTLE   ANGRY. 

DON'T  know  whether  Brandon  Mountain  was 
called  from  us  or  we  from  the  mountain.  The 
country  people  say  that  there  were  Brandons 
in  the  land  before  the  mountains  were  made. 
Anyhow  the  mountains  are  likely  to  be  there  when  there 
are  no  Brandons,  so  far  as  I  can  see.  For  how  is  a  family 
to  last  when  it  has  come  to  living  on  nothing,  and  the 
number  of  the  family  all  told  nine, — they  being  nearly 
all  healthy  and  hungry  people?  At  least  there  were 
nine  before  Pierce  and  Freda  left  us,  and  now  there  are 
seven.  I  foresee  that  one  of  these  days,  in  spite  of  our 
vows  to  the  contrary,  we  shall  have  to  sell  Brandon 
after  all. 

Now  if  some  nice  English  lord  would  come  along  and 
buy  it,  to  sell  it  would  not"  be  so  bitter.  Sometimes 
places  do  sell  just  for  sheer  beauty,  and  Brandon  has 
nothing  else.  Time  was  when  it  had  deer  and  grouse 


10  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

and  pheasants  and  wild  little  black  cattle,  to  say  nothing 
of  hares  and  curlews  and  such  small  fry.  But  that  was 
before  the  prosperity  went  from  us  to  "the  bad  De 
Lacys  ",  as  they  are  called  far  and  near. 

I  suppose  they  deserved  their  name  in  the  old  days 
when  they  won  it.  They  were  a  persecuting,  wild-living, 
hard-riding,  hard-drinking  race  ever  and  always,  and  the 
people  do  not  forget  it  to  them  that  they  burned  chapels 
and  flayed  peasants  at  the  cart-wheel  in  the  old  unhappy 
times  that,  thank  God,  are  passed  for  ever. 

The  Brandons  of  Brandon  and  the  De  Lacys  of  Angry 
used  in  the  old  days  to  rule  the  county  between  them, 
though  the  Brandons,  to  believe  the  talk  of  the  peasants 
and  the  more  reliable  county  histories,  were  always  good 
to  their  people.  There  was  as  much  difference  between 
them,  say  the  country  people,  as  between  Brandon  Hill 
and  Angry  Mountain. 

Dear  Brandon,  that  we  all  opened  our  eyes  upon  nearly 
as  soon  as  we  were  born!  Brandon  always  seems  to  take 
the  sunshine.  There,  beyond  the  trees  of  our  park,  the 
blue  peak  lifts  gloriously  a  smiling  face  to  heaven.  The 
gold  of  sunset  crowns  it,  and  the  roses  of  the  dawn  fall 
first  upon  its  head.  Usually  it  is  purple  as  a  pansy,  but 
if  the  clouds  lie  on  it  they  are  silver  wisps  finer  than 
gossamer.  The  cold  weather  turns  Brandon  to  bronze 
and  gold.  There  are  times  when  the  slopes  of  it  are  as 
golden  as  a  May  pasture  with  the  gorse  in  bloom,  and 
times  again  when  the  drifts  of  heather  are  like  fields  of 
scattered  rose-leavea 


CASTLE   BRANDON  AND   CASTLE   ANGRY.  11 

Up  there,  where  the  little  woods  are,  is  like  fairy-land. 
You  are  in  a  world  of  feathery  aisles  and  arches.  The 
ground  under  your  feet  in  spring  is  dancing  with  the 
daffodils,  or  a  little  later  with  the  wild  hyacinths,  and 
below  them  a  carpet  of  the  greenest  moss.  There  are 
little  trout-rivers,  amber-brown,  and  always  singing  as 
softly  as  Oona,  our  nurse,  used  to  sing  her  "  Cusha  Loo  " 
to  us  to  put  us  asleep.  But  for  those  same  trout-streams 
often  and  often  had  we  Brandons  gone  hungry. 

Angry  Mountain  no  doubt  had  its  name  from  its  looks. 
No  one  ever  saw  its  head  out  of  the  clouds.  When 
there  is  thunder  it  bellows  terribly  out  of  the  wall  of 
cloud  on  Angry.  There  is  a  great  chasm  in  the  side  of 
it,  "  The  Devil's  Slice  "  they  call  it,  which  looks  like  the 
track  of  an  avalanche.  There  are  some  who  say  that  the 
hidden  lake  on  top  of  Angry  once  emptied  itself  and 
swept  a  whole  tract  of  boggy  country  before  it  down 
upon  the  villages  and  churches  and  farms  and  cabins. 
Angry  Woods,  that  clothe  the  mountain  base,  have  a  bad 
name.  People  say  that  the  kindly  growths  of  other 
woods  are  sparse  and  thin  there — that  it  is  a  place  of 
gnarled  old  trees  flinging  themselves  about  in  horrible 
attitudes — -that  it  is  damp  and  full  of  fungus — and  that 
you  never  know  when  you  may  plunge  into  a  bog-hole 
unaware,  and  be  drowned  there,  and  dried  into  a  brown 
mummy,  no  one  knowing  your  fate. 

I  expect  most  of  those  who  have  visited  Angry  Woods 
have  gone  there  by  nightfall,  and  with  their  hearts  in 
their  mouths,  prepared  for  all  manner  of  horrors.  By 


12  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

day  the  fear  of  Sir  Rupert  De  Lacy  and  his  bloodhounds 
is  too  great.  Yet  it  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  Sir 
Rupert's  character,  if  he  suspected  an  intruder  in  his 
woods  by  night,  to  let  the  bloodhounds  loose.  If  some 
poor  creature  were  torn  to  pieces  by  them,  God  help  us, 
no  one  supposes  that  Sir  Rupert  would  care;  and,  from 
the  glimpse  I  once  caught  of  him,  I  could  believe  any  ill 
of  him. 

That  was  before  I  had  lamed  myself,  and  become  the 
weak  and  ugly  duckling  of  the  handsome  Brandons. 
There  is  a  great  chestnut  tree  that  has  grown  through 
the  walls  of  Brandon  Abbey  and  brought  down  the  solid 
masonry  before  it.  I  had  my  summer  withdra wing-room 
in  the  chestnut,  and  nobody  knew  for  a  long  time.  When 
we  were  all  in  the  woods,  Esther  and  Hugh,  and  Donald, 
and  the  twins  and  I,  it  used  to  be  my  sport  to  disappear 
into  my  tree,  where  the  others  could  never  find  me. 
Delicious  it  was — like  a  world  under  the  sea — in  the 
midst  of  green  leaves.  When  the  boughs  hung  up 
their  lamps  in  spring,  and  the  leaves  had  just  shaken  out 
their  delicate  fans,  I  used  to  feel  as  if  the  chestnut 
tree  were  fairyland,  and  too  beautiful  for  anything  of 
earth. 

I  used  to  read  in  the  chestnut — I  was  always  the 
reading  one  of  the  family — and  used  to  love  to  hide 
in  it  while  the  others  ran  here  and  there  calling  me 
through  the  woods. 

The  road  runs  under  the  Abbey  walls.  There  used  to 
be  a  fortified  wall  running  round  Brandon  to  protect  it 


CASTLE   BRANDON   AND   CASTLE   ANGRY.  13 

from  the  Irish  chieftains,  with  whom  afterwards  we 
Brandons  became  such  good  friends,  and  even  inter- 
married. The  outer  wall  of  the  Abbey  is  an  integral 
part  of  the  old  wall. 

Well,  as  I  was  sitting  high  in  my  leafy  house  one  day, 
I  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs,  and  looked  out  to  see  who 
might  be  passing.  There  were  two  men,  mounted,  and 
at  their  heels  three  heavily-built,  lumbering  dogs,  of  a 
variety  new  to  me.  It  was  easy  to  guess  that  they  were 
the  bloodhounds  of  whom  the  country  people  stood  in 
such  dread. 

Poor  beasts!  I  should  not  have  feared  them  myself 
half  as  much  as  I  should  have  feared  either  of  those  men. 
They  looked  weary  and  footsore,  being  indeed  of  a  breed 
too  heavy  to  follow  mounted  men,  and  they  were  plod- 
ding along  in  the  dust  of  the  road  and  the  hot  sun,  in  a 
way  that  made  me  feel  very  sorry  for  them. 

The  rider  in  front  was  evidently  Sir  Rupert  De  Lacy. 
He  was  a  big  old  man,  with  square  relentless  jaws,  and 
the  colour  of  gray  granite.  His  hair  was  quite  white  and 
soft,  such  hair  as  might  have  belonged  to  an  innocent, 
gentle  old  man.  But  Sir  Rupert  had  eyes  as  ferocious 
as  a  wild  beast's,  with  curious  red  lights  in  them  which 
I  should  say  were  the  lights  of  madness. 

You  will  wonder  how  I  saw  all  this,  but  as  it  happened 
Sir  Rupert  was  riding  bareheaded,  and  as  he  passed 
below  my  tree  he  pointed  with  his  whip  towards  Brandon, 
and  then  laughed.  My  description  of  him  owes  nothing 
at  all  to  fancy,  though  the  others  laughed  at  me  about  it, 


14  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

and  said  it  was  only  my  romantic  way  to  fancy  I  could 
see  the  fires  in  our  old  enemy's  eyes. 

Behind  him  a  pace  or  two  rode  James  Gaskin,  Sir 
Rupert's  steward — Sir  Rupert's  "  devil ",  as  I  have  heard 
him  called.  When  a  man  has  a  mind  to  be  wicked  in- 
deed Satan  generally  gives  him  tools  to  his  liking,  and  if 
half  the  stories  about  Gaskin  were  true,  he  was  as  much 
more  wicked  than  Sir  Rupert  as  hell  is  wickeder  than 
earth. 

Gaskin  was  yellow  and  shrivelled,  with  a  slight  hump 
between  his  shoulders.  He  was  grinning  in  answer  to 
Sir  Rupert's  speech,  and  the  grin  showed  teeth  like  fangs. 
I  have  never,  indeed,  seen  a  face  in  which  evil  was  so 
terribly  written. 

Now  as  they  passed  below,  Paudeen,  my  little  half- 
bred  Irish  terrier,  who  was  lying  in  my  lap,  must  needs 
cock  his  ears  and  growl.  The  men  did  not  hear  it,  but 
the  dogs  did,  and  growled  in  answer/  Then  the  man, 
Gaskin,  snatched  from  his  pocket  a  horrible  knotted  whip, 
and,  leaning  over,  lashed  at  the  poor  beasts  that  were 
doing  no  harm.  Two  of  them  shrank  away  whimpering. 
The  third  never  flinched,  brit,  lifting  her  tremendous 
jowl,  faced  the  man  with  her  black  lips  drawn  back 
over  her  great  teeth,  and  every  hair  on  her  bristling. 
I  almost  laughed  aloud  to  see  how  Mr.  Gaskin  trotted 
forward  to  put  a  good  space  between  himself  and  the 
brute. 

Sir  Rupert  burst  into  laughter,  a  harsh  and  insolent 
laughter  without  merriment. 


CASTLE   BRANDON    AND   CASTLE   ANGRY.  15 

"  Take  care,  Gaskin,"  he  spluttered,  "  or  Venom  will 
pay  off  old  scores  on  you  one  of  these  days.  She  hasn't 
forgotten  that  touch  you  gave  her  with  the  red-hot  irons. 
She'll  do  you  a  mischief  if  she  can.  I'd  confine  my  at- 
tentions to  the  other  brutes  if  I  were  you." 

So  much  I  heard  before  the  pair  rode  away  out  of 
hearing — a  blot  on  the  sunny  day.  It  was  seldom  that 
Sir  Rupert  was  seen  in  our  part  of  the  world,  or  indeed 
anywhere  outside  his  own  Castle  of  Angry,  where  they 
say  that  he  and  Gaskin  drink  together,  and  the  peasants 
suppose  that  the  devil  himself  often  makes  a  third. 

Somehow  I  guessed  that  he  had  come,  casting  his 
shadow  on  Brandon,  that  he  might  see  the  place  he  is 
bent  on  making  his  own.  Alas!  Sir  Rupert  is  our  one 
probable  purchaser  for  our  dear  old  home.  Who  else 
would  want  it? — all  gone  to  ruin  as  it  is,  and  stripped  of 
all  but  its  beauty.  How  often  we  have  declared  hotly 
that  we  would  die  ere  he  should  have  it,  every  one  of 
us,  from  Aline  to  the  youngest  twin.  But  there  he  sits 
like  a  great  gray  old  spider  in  his  web,  waiting  and 
waiting  till  we  are  obliged  to  walk  into  it  and  he  gobbles 
us  and  our  poor  Brandon  up;  and  also  the  poor  innocent 
people  as  well,  in  their  wretched  neglected  mountain 
farms,  who  exist  simply  by  reason  of  our  forbearance. 

Yet  Oona,  our  nurse,  remembers  when  Sir  Rupert  was 
a  dashing  young  gentleman, — no  one  ever  suspected  that 
he  would  grow  into  an  ogre. 

"  He  had  the  bad  drop,  though,"  Oona  will  say,  wagging 
her  old  head.  "  He  was  personable,  but  never  to  my 


16  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

liking.  Your  grandmama,  Miss  Hilda,  could  never  abide 
him,  and  wouldn't  have  married  him  not  if  your  grand- 
papa had  never  been  born.  She  guessed  at  the  bad  drop 
in  him,  dear  young  lady,  though  her  ears  had  been  kept 
from  hearing  what  other  people  knew  of  him.  Your 
grandpapa  and  he  were  like  day  and  night,  the  one  all 
goodness  and  brightness,  the  other  with  the  black  passions 
already  marking  his  face." 

Oona  has  told  me  over  and  over  again  the  story  of  the 
love  of  the  two  men  for  my  grandmother,  an  episode 
which  has  ruined  us  Brandons,  and  made  Sir  Rupert  our 
implacable  enemy. 

Our  grandmother's  picture  hangs  in  the  boudoir,  where 
Aline  sits  sewing  or  writing  letters,  or  puzzling  over 
wretched  sums,  poor  darling!  There  are  beautiful  women 
nowadays,  but  women  like  our  grandmother  seem  to 
have  left  the  world  altogether.  .  She  must  have  been 
very  tall;  the  folds  of  her  white  silk  dress  sweep  away 
an  endless  distance  in  the  picture.  She  has  the  neck  of 
a  swan,  and  a  face,  pure  oval,  with  large  melancholy  eyes. 
Ringlets  fall  on  either  side  of  her  exquisite  face,  and  so 
innocent  is  her  expression  that  she  seems  rather  a  creature 
for  heaven  than  for  earth.  And  indeed  she  did  not  live 
long  after  our  dear  father  was  born. 

Grandpapa  I  can  remember  dimly,  and  can  well  believe 
that  he  was  a  handsome  young  man.  Trouble  had  bent 
him,  but  there  was  no  bitterness  in  the  blue  eyes — "  eyes 
of  youth  ",  though  youth  had  long  left  him.  Even  for 
Sir  Rupert  he  had  forgiveness  at  last,  so  true  a  Christian 

(M436) 


CASTLE   BRANDON   AND   CASTLE   ANGRY.  17 

was  he,  so  humbly  emulous  of  the  Master  he  loved  and 
served. 

Why,  Aline  is  exactly  what  he  must  have  been  at  her 
age,  except  that  Aline  has  borne  the  burden  of  us  all  so 
long  that  she  has  more  lines  of  care  round  her  dear  blue 
eyes  and  her  gentle  mouth  than  ought  to  be  there. 

However,  Oona  says  that  grandpapa,  good  as  he  was, 
was  as  spirited  a  young  gentleman  as  any  of  his  com- 
peers. No  one  could  say  of  him  that  he  was  a  milksop. 
He  and  Sir  Rupert  were  ever  something  of  rivals  from 
the  days  they  were  boys  at  school  together,  and  not  in 
bookish  matters.  At  games  and  sports  they  strove  to 
outstrip  each  other.  They  were  ensigns  in  the  same 
regiment,  and  in  the  wars  abroad  none  could  say  which 
was  the  better  man  in  the  field,  though  even  then  Sir 
Rupert  had  begun  to  have  something  of  a  bad  reputation. 
Then  the  peace  came,  and  the  two  young  gentlemen 
swaggered  it  a  while  against  each  other  in  London 
drawing-rooms  before  coming  back  to  their  neighbouring 
patrimonies.  There  both  fell  in  love  with  the  same 
woman. 

There  was  never  any  doubt  from  the  beginning  as  to 
the  way  Aline  Ashburton's  heart  had  gone.  But  Sir 
Rupert  would  not  believe  it  till  she  was  actually  married. 
Then  he  seemed  to  accept  the  triumph  of  his  rival  so 
generously,  to  all  appearance,  that  our  dear  grandfather 
was  full  of  remorse  for  the  bad  opinion  he  had  held  of 
him  for  long.  Among  the  Brandon  jewels  is,  or  was,  the 
collet  of  diamonds  which  Sir  Rupert  sent  our  grand- 

(  M  436  )  B 


18  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

mother.  Inside  the  clasp  is  written,  "To  the  Fairest", 
with  the  date  of  grandmother's  marriage. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  Sir  Rupert  most  wickedly 
wormed  himself  into  grandfather's  confidence.  I  can 
well  believe  that  the  generous  heart  was  full  of  pity  and 
tenderness  for  its  unsuccessful  rival.  My  grandmother, 
Oona  says,  never  liked  the  friendship,  but  she  could  give 
no  reason,  except  her  feminine  instincts,  for  her  distrust 
of  her  old  suitor,  and  those  were  not  enough. 

Ah!  dear  grandpapa  was  surely  easily  duped.  Even 
when  his  pseudo- friend  had  betrayed  him,  no  mist  of 
suspicion  ever  gathered  between  those  blue  eyes  and  the 
world.  In  his  latter  days,  indeed,  he  grew  so  much  like 
heaven,  so  little  like  earth,  that  his  righteous  anger 
against  Rupert  De  Lacy  was  lost  in  his  profound  pity 
for  the  sinner — such  pity  as  an  angel  might  have,  who 
should  realize  all  the  horror  of  sin,  and  yet  yearn  over 
the  soul  for  which  Christ  died. 

Sir  Rupert,  even  in  those  early  days,  had  had  some- 
thing of  a  taste  for  science,  and  in  the  years  that  followed 
his  disappointment  in  love  he  had  devoted  a  certain 
amount  of  time  to  study  in  the  laboratory  which  he  had 
fitted  up  in  his  house. 

Now  there  was,  where  Brandon  estate  wanders  away 
to  the  mountain,  a  bit  of  unenclosed  land,  bare  and  poor, 
which  up  to  that  time  had  been  regarded  as  waste.  It 
was  beyond  Brandon  walls,  and  nearly  trenched  on  the 
lands  of  Castle  Angry. 

Well,  Sir  Rupert  easily  enough  cozened  my  grandfather 


CASTLE   BRANDON   AND   CASTLE   ANGRY.  19 

out  of  it.  There  was  water  there,  he  said,  and  his  cattle 
had  but  brackish  bog-pools.  My  grandfather  was  for 
giving  it  to  him,  but  Sir  Rupert  would  not  have  it  so, 
and  the  deeds  were  regularly  made  out,  signed,  and 
delivered.  Then,  too  late,  it  was  discovered  why  Sir 
Rupert  wanted  the  land.  Why,  underneath  its  docks 
and  dandelions  it  was  one  great  seam  of  copper! 

The  copper  mines  made  the  De  Lacys  rich  and  the 
Brandons  poor.  When  grandfather  discovered  how  he  had 
been  cheated,  and  that  there  was  no  remedy,  he  began  to 
sink  for  copper  on  his  own  account.  People  said  that  by 
means  of  paid  agents  Sir  Rupert  fostered  in  my  grand- 
father what  soon  became  a  craze.  How  many  thousands 
of  pounds  were  poured  into  those  wretched  pits  over 
there  towards  Angry  I  would  not  like  to  say.  Sometimes 
copper  was  found  in  small  quantities,  placed  there,  people 
said,  by  Sir  Rupert's  agents.  Such  finds  only  set  my 
grandfather  to  harder  and  more  feverish  endeavour,  but 
they  all  ended  in  nothing.  The  one  seam,  and  that 
apparently  inexhaustible,  was  on  Whinny  Waste,  as  the 
No  Man's  Land  was  called. 

While  my  grandfather  was  ruining  himself  and  future 
Brandons,  Sir  Rupert  was  heaping  up  gold.  But  now  the 
mines  are  no  longer  his,  for  a  few  years  ago  he  sold  them 
for  a  great  sum  to  an  English  company.  People  say  it 
was  because  he  had  a  profound  contempt  for  the  business 
capacity  of  his  grandson,  a  young  fellow  of  whom  we  see 
nothing  in  this  country,  his  youth  having  been  spent  with 
his  mother's  people  in  an  English  rectory.  Indeed,  Castle 


20  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

Angry  would  have  been  no  place  for  a  young  life  to  grow 
up  in;  and  the  young  man  may  be  like  his  father,  about 
whose  marriage  Sir  Rupert  was  so  furious  that  he  never 
laid  eyes  on  him  afterwards. 

Anyhow,  he  must  be  the  better  for  not  having  known, 
in  the  tender  days  of  his  youth,  his  terrible  old  grand- 
father and  James  Gaskin. 


CHAPTER    II. 

WE    BRANDONS. 

WITHIN  Brandon  walls  we  are  out  of  the  world. 
We  know  nothing  of  the  copper  mines,  except 
that  sometimes  we  meet  a  shock-headed  miner  or  two 
when  we  are  on  our  way  to  the  village.  The  sulphur- 
coloured  washings  enter  Brandon  river  some  miles  away, 
and  are  carried  out  to  sea.  None  of  the  smoke  or  smell 
of  the  mines  is  blown  our  way.  In  my  heart  I  am  glad 
that  no  copper  was  ever  found  on  Brandon  Mountain.  I 
could  not  bear  to  see  his  beautiful  blue  and  purple  sides 
disfigured  by  the  brimstone  of  the  pit,  whatever  of  gold 
it  might  mean  to  us. 

We  keep  much  within  our  walls,  and  fortunately  we 
have  no  lack  of  room  to  stretch  our  legs.  Our  neigh- 
bours live  at  long  distances  from  us,  and  though  they 
would  be  kind,  no  doubt,  because  we  are  Brandons,  we 
couldn't  keep  up  with  them  in  any  way. 

Why,  we  girls  would  have  no  clothes  to  wear  at  all  if 
it  were  not  for  the  stores  laid  away  in  oak  chests  and 
wardrobes  upstairs,  belonging  to  dead-and-gone  Brandon 
ladies.  Fortunately  they  made  no  shoddy  in  those  days, 


22  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

and  the  things  have  been  safe  in  their  camphor-lined 
dwellings  from  the  moth  and  mildew.  Brocades  are 
there,  fine  yellow  muslins  that  you  could  draw  through 
a  ring,  woollens  nearly  as  fine;  and,  as  pretty  as  any 
of  them,  chintzes  in  bunched-up  sacques  belonging  to  a 
day  when  it  was  the  fashion  to  be  Arcadian. 

We  have  adapted  them  with  the  aid  of  Mary  Fahy, 
the  village  dressmaker,  and  a  deal  of  trouble  I  often 
have  to  prevent  her  alterations  being  too  drastic.  A 
newspaper  sometimes  comes  our  way,  and  I  know  that  it 
is  the  fashion  for  ladies  nowadays  to  dress  picturesquely, 
so  I  insist,  greatly  to  Mary's  discontent,  that  the  precious 
old  stuffs  must  not  be  cut,  or  too  much  pulled  about,  but 
only  just  pinched  in  here,  or  drawn  out  there,  to  fit  us. 

Not  that  she  despises  the  beautiful  material,  which  I 
have  seen  her  fingering  with  rapt  enjoyment.  It  is 
only  that  she  hankers  after  the  fashions  ever  since  she 
paid  a  visit  to  Dublin,  and,  having  a  cousin  a  house- 
maid at  the  Castle,  was  permitted  a  peep  at  various 
festivities,  with  all  the  fine  folk  taking  part  in  them. 
Mary's  cousin,  too,  occasionally  sends  her  a  lady's  paper, 
which  serves  to  keep  her  ideas  modern.  However,  I  let 
her  have  her  own  way,  with  modifications,  on  the  print 
frocks  we  wear  in  summer-time,  to  make  up  for  my 
obstinacy  about  the  old  stuffs. 

I  feel  that  I  am  talking  as  if  I  were  the  head  of  the 
i'amily.  That  is  because  Aline  and  Esther  leave  so  much 
to  my  judgment.  I  am  supposed  to  have  the  brains  of 
the  women  of  the  family,  which,  if  it  is  true,  is  only 


WE   BRANDONS.  23 

fair,  as  the  others  have  the  beauty.  I  have  been  delicate 
since  the  fall  that  lamed  me,  pale  and  puny  and  insig- 
nificant, with  light -col  cured  hair  and  washed-out  blue 
eyes.  Esther  is  like  mother,  but  more  beautiful — dark, 
with  such  vivid  roses  in  her  cheeks  and  lips,  and  such 
velvety  eyes,  and  hair  with  coppery  lights  in  it. 

Brandon  is  a  big  house,  four  stories  in  the  middle, 
with  wings  of  three  stories  on  each  side.  But  the  upper 
stories  do  not  exist  for  us.  They  have  so  long  let  in  the 
weather  that  we  have  given  them  over  to  the  owls  and 
bats.  There  is  a  deal  of  rubbish  up  there  as  well,  and 
the  children  look  upon  it  as  a  kind  of  Treasure  Land,  so 
that  we  have  to  keep  the  doors  of  communication  safely 
locked,  or  we  would  never  have  our  young  pickles  out  of 
the  rotting  rooms. 

I  have  sometimes  gone  there  myself — of  course  I  am 
to  be  trusted — and  have  leant  my  arms  on  a  window- 
sill,  and  looked  down  at  dear  Aline  toiling  away  in  the 
corner  of  the  rose  garden,  which  she  has  kept  from 
returning  to  wilderness.  I  have  seen  the  twins,  too, 
sitting  there  demurely  under  Aline's  eye  with  their 
lesson-books  open  on  their  laps,  two  pattern  little  dam- 
sels; till  suddenly  in  a  moment,  Aline  having  forgotten 
them  over  her  roses,  they  would  slip  from  the  stone 
seat,  and,  holding  each  other's  hands,  would  steal  through 
the  sweet-brier  hedge,  and  run,  run,  till  they  were  far 
beyond  Aline's  call;  thus  keeping  tryst,  naughty  little 
girls,  with  Hugh  and  Donald,  who  were  trout-fishing  or 
rabbit-snaring  in  the  woods. 


24  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

Then  my  gaze  would  wander  over  the  tree-tops  to  our 
dear  Brandon,  and  on  to  Angry  Mountain,  fuming 
with  clouds.  I  could  see  the  towers  of  Castle  Angry  in 
the  fissure  the  old  bog-slide  had  left,  there  on  its  solid 
land,  and  the  bog-holes  and  little  rivers  which  surround 
it,  so  that  it  has  to  be  approached  by  a  causeway.  When 
my  eyes  rested  on  Castle  Angry,  I  would  always  shake 
my  fist  and  frown,  before  withdrawing  myself  from  my 
post  of  observation. 

Oona  is  our  housekeeper  now,  and  as  stiff  with  the 
Kates  and  Pollys  of  the  village,  who  are  our  clumsy  but 
willing  little  handmaidens,  as  though  she  had  a  great 
staff  of  servants  under  her.  Oona  never  forgets  what 
the  Brandons  were  in  old  days,  and  ignores  as  much  as 
possible  the  sad  change  that  has  come  upon  the  family 
fortunes.  Even  if  we  have  only  a  skinny  chicken  and  a 
pig's  cheek  and  greens  for  our  dinner,  they  are  served 
on  silver,  and  the  old  table-linen,  darned  to  the  last 
extent,  is  always  beautifully  snowy  and  shining,  as  its 
texture  deserves. 

When  we  are  alone  Oona's  manner  to  us  is  that  of  a 
nurse  to  her  children,  scolding  often,  petting  again,  and 
sometimes  dictatorial.  But  before  the  little  round-eyed 
servants  she  never  forgets  what  is  due  to  a  Brandon, 
and  her  humility  of  manner  towards  us  is  no  end  of  a 
jest,  for  we  have  always  feared  Oona  so  much  more  than 
she  has  feared  us, — that  is,  we  younger  ones. 

Only  to-day  I  was  sitting  with  Aline  in  the  boudoir, 
to  which  we  have  brought  our  griefs  and  misfortunes 


WE   BRANDONS.  25 

and  peccadillos,  ever  since  our  dear  mother  died.  I  was 
just  looking  into  the  turf  fire  and  prodding  it  up  with  a 
stick  to  make  the  sparks  fly  out  of  it,  while  Aline  sat 
mending  a  pinafore  belonging  to  one  of  the  twins,  and 
now  and  again  smiling  at  me  without  speaking. 

Suddenly  there  broke  into  the  silence  of  the  little 
room, — where  the  smell  of  yesterday's  roses  blent  with 
the  sharp  turf -smoke, — a  loud  wail.  Aline  sprang  to  her 
feet,  but  I  made  a  signal  to  her  to  be  quiet. 

"It  is  only  Oona  lecturing  Polly,"  I  said;  "listen,  and 
we  will  hear  what  it  is  all  about." 

"  Indeed,"  wailed  the  voice,  "  'tis  doin'  me  best  I  am. 
Amn't  I  wearin'  them  ould  boots  to  plase  you  when  me 
feet  does  be  cut  to  bits  wid  them,  an'  the  ould  gazebo 
of  a  thing  you've  had  me  put  on  me  head  enough  to 
break  me  heart?  Sure  I  didn't  know  there  was  any 
harm  at  all  at  all  in  laughin'  at  the  young  gentlemen's 
jokes  at  dinner,  an'  they  so  arch  I  thought  I'd  have  to 
run  out  of  the  room  in  screeches,  so  I  did." 

"You're  a  bad,  ungrateful  little  girl!"  says  Oona,  stem- 
ming the  flow  of  words,  "  or  'tis  glad  an'  proud  you'd  be 
to  have  boots  on  them  dirty  feet  of  yours,  and  a  cap  to 
cover  your  head,  that's  more  like  a  haystack  than  a 
Christian  girl's.  Why,  when  I  was  young,  and  in  ser- 
vice in  this  very  house,  the  housekeeper  would  have 
given  me  the  quare  goin'  over  if  I  let  on  any  more  than 
the  poker  that  I  heard  anythin'  was  said  when  I  was 
waitin'  table.  'Twould  be  as  much  as  my  place  was 
worth." 


26  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  0,  glory  be  to  goodness,  Mr.  O'Connor,  dear,"  cried 
the  culprit,  "  sure  we  can't  all  be  pokers,  let  alone  that  I 
can  see  them  blessed  childher  just  play-actin'  at  me  to 
make  me  run  out  o'  the  room  wid  the  laughin'." 

"  Childher!  Am  I  to  understand  you  as  referrin'  to 
the  young  gentlemen  of  the  house?"  we  hear  Oona  say 
in  the  loftiest  tones;  but  at  this  moment  a  diversion 
occurs,  for  the  twins  come  racing  along  the  corridor  with 
a  letter  for  Aline,  and  Oona  transfers  her  lecture  and 
little  Polly  to  the  housekeeper's  room. 

I  always  like  to  sit  in  Aline's  room,  there  is  such  an 
atmosphere  of  quietness  about  her.  Quietness  and  the 
sun  are  two  things  I  associate  with  her.  Is  it  always 
sunny  in  that  little  octagon  room,  or  is  it  only  an 
effect  of  the  faded  yellow  silk  panelling,  and  the  old 
chairs  and  sofas  in  the  same  sunny  colouring?  One  side 
of  Aline's  lantern-shaped  room  is  indeed  all  window,  and 
the  upper  panes  filled  with  little  golden  shields,  so  that 
the  room  receives  all  the  sunlight  going.  Except  Aline's 
desk,  which  we  have  been  told  is  genuine  Sheraton, 
and  worth  a  handful  of  money,  the  room  has  little  fur- 
niture other  than  its  straight-backed  couches  and  chairs. 

I  am  sure  there  are  secret  cupboards  behind  some  of 
those  panels.  Often,  when  Aline  has  been  writing  her 
long  letters  to  Pierce  or  Freda,  I  have  gone  creeping 
round  the  room,  touching  every  knob  of  the  curious 
carved  roses  that  surround  the  panels  of  yellow  brocade. 
But  I  have  never  succeeded  in  making  a  panel  slide  back, 
as  I  have  fondly  hoped  to  do.  Again  and  again  I  have 


\VE   BRANDONS.  27 

desisted  only  when  I  discovered  Aline's  grave  smile 
upon  me. 

You  will  wonder  what  I  expect  to  find, — well,  no 
treasure,  certainly,  that  is,  no  money  treasure,  but  per- 
haps a  bundle  of  faded  love-letters,  or  some  such  relic  of 
a  former  occupant  of  this  room,  which  would  be  real 
treasure-trove  for  me.  Aline  laughs  at  me  for  a  romantic 
child,  and  says  I  shall  never  find  anything,  but  still  I 
hope. 

Aline's  letter  is  from  Pierce.  As  she  reads  it  I  watch 
her  face  unobserved.  It  is  lit  up  as  though  she  were 
reading  a  love-letter.  The  love  between  those  two  is 
wonderful.  We  all  understand,  at  least  Esther  and  I 
do,  how  it  is  that  Aline  can  refuse  so  heartlessly,  year 
after  year,  that  poor  good  Mr.  Benson.  Why,  with  her 
immense  love  for  Pierce,  and  the  overflowing  of  it  for 
all  us,  unworthy,  she  has  none  left  for  a  lover  or  a  hus- 
band. Not  but  that  we  are  devoutly  grateful  for  Aline's 
celibacy,  since  she  is  happy  in  it,  for  what  on  earth  would 
we  do  without  her?  Of  course,  she  would  make  an 
exquisite  parson's  wife,  beneficent  without  being  med- 
dling; but  then  she  is  more  exquisite  as  our  sister. 

It  is  now  five  years  since  Pierce  left  us;  he  will  be 
twenty-seven  the  3rd  of  next  June.  Freda  was  twenty- 
five  in  February,  and  Aline  has  actually  entered  the 
thirties.  Pierce  was  a  tall,  slim,  active  fellow  when  he 
went  away,  with  Aline's  golden  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and 
Aline's  sudden  radiant  smile  in  a  serious  face.  Those 
two  always  rather  held  aloof  from  us,  much  as  a  very 


28  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

devoted  husband  and  wife  might  hold  aloof  from  their 
grown-up  children. 

They  used  to  walk  together  a  good  deal  in  the  woods, 
and  when  Pierce  would  go  fishing  Aline  would  accom- 
pany him  with  her  basket  of  mending  or  her  book,  and 
sit  by  him  through  the  long  hours  of  the  day,  while  we 
young  barbarians  held  our  revels  unchecked. 

It  must  have  been  a  great  blow  to  Aline  when  Pierce 
went  so  far  away.  She  has  always  had  an  air  of  loneli- 
ness since,  as  of  one  who  has  lost  her  mate.  We  have  a 
way  of  going  in  couples  in  our  family.  Aline  and  Pierce, 
Esther  and  I,  the  twins  of  course,  and  those  two  dear 
boys  who  are  always  together.  I  don't  know  where 
Freda  came  in,  but  of  course  it  mattered  less,  as  she 
married  so  young,  and  was  so  absorbed  in  her  Jim. 

Pierce's  going  came  about  through  Mr.  Desmond's 
visiting  the  old  country.  Mr.  Desmond  is  one  of  our 
personalities,  and  we  are  immensely  proud  of  him, 
especially  as  he  was  born  on  Brandon  estate.  He  is  the 
son  of  a  small  tenant-farmer,  and  came  into  the  world, 
one  would  say,  with  a  very  hard  iron  spoon  in  his  mouth, 
and  the  same  spoon  quite  ignorant  of  even  wholesome 
stirabout.  However,  despite  his  humble  origin,  he  has 
become  a  great  man,  a  pioneer  in  dark  continents,  a 
letter-in  of  light  on  the  hidden  places  of  the  earth.  He 
is  very  wealthy  and  powerful,  yet  he  is  very  simple,  and 
as  plain-living  almost  and  plain-spoken  as  the  peasants 
he  sprang  from.  All  his  people  are  long  dead,  and  the 
little  house  where  he  was  born  levelled  to  the  ground; 


"THEY    USED   TO    WALK   TOGETHER    A   GOOD    DEAL   IN    THE    WOODS." 


WE   BRANDONS.  29 

so  it  must  have  been  a  lonely  home-coming  for  him 
when  he  arrived  that  May  day  now  more  than  five  years 
ago,  and,  walking  into  the  wretched  little  "Brandon 
Arms",  asked  if  he  could  have  a  bed  and  board  for  a  few 
days. 

I  believe  the  people  round  about  would  have  made  a 
great  fuss  over  him,  if  he  had  not  quietly  and  shyly 
slipped  through  their  fingers.  He  made  nothing  like  a 
public  appearance,  but  spent  his  time  walking  about  by 
himself  revisiting  the  places  he  had  known  in  childhood. 
When  he  left,  in  about  ten  days  after  he  had  arrived, 
the  only  tangible  signs  that  he  had  ever  come  were 
the  magnificent  cheques  he  sent  the  Rector  and  Father 
O'Sullivan,  to  be  used  as  they  thought  well  among  the 
poor  people. 

But  he  carried  off  our  Pierce.  He  had  come  upon  him 
fishing,  and  had  sat  and  talked  with  him  the  length  of  an 
afternoon,  while  the  May-flies  danced  above  the  water, 
and  Pierce  filled  his  basket  with  beautiful  silver  trout. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Desmond  called,  and  sent  in  his  card 
to  Aline.  The  first  we  heard  of  him  was  that  Aline  had 
invited  him  to  lunch,  which  consisted  of  Pierce's  trout, 
cooked  as  only  Oona  knows  how.  He  came  two  or  three 
times  afterwards,  and  then  we  heard  that  Pierce  was  to 
go  to  Africa  with  him.  Pierce  seemed  fascinated  by  the 
man.  So  indeed  did  Hugh  and  Donald,  whose  noses  at 
that  time  were  not  much  more  than  above  the  table- 
cloth, but  their  scent  was  as  keen  all  the  time  for  danger 
and  adventure  as  if  they  stood  six  feet  in  their  stockings. 


30  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

Aline  said  to  us  over  and  over  during  those  days  that 
it  was  a  great  thing  for  Pierce  to  have  found  such  a 
friend  as  Mr.  Desmond,  and  that  he  couldn't  always  be 
at  home  doing  nothing,  and  that  maybe  he  would  be- 
come a  great  man  himself,  and  build  up  the  Brandon 
fortunes  again;  to  all  of  which  we  gave  a  cheerful  assent, 
though  the  tears  were  big  in  Aline's  eyes.  We  had  great 
food  for  speculation  then  about  what  would  be  the 
extent  of  Pierce's  fortune  when  he  came  home,  and  how 
much  it  would  take  to  put  Brandon  on  its  legs  again. 

However,  all  that  proved  quite  futile.  Mr.  Desmond 
and  Pierce  had  been  together  only  a  couple  of  years 
when,  for  some  reason,  they  quarrelled  and  separated. 

Meanwhile  Aline  has  long  worn  that  look  of  expecta- 
tion, which  means,  we  know,  that  she  hopes  any  day  may 
bring  Pierce,  or  news  that  he  is  coming.  Every  month 
his  room,  the  upper  room  of  the  octagon,  is  turned  out, 
and  afterwards  Aline  herself  puts  it  to  rights,  setting  all 
the  things  tidily  just  as  Pierce  left  them,  in  the  old 
untidy  fashion.  His  rod  and  fishing-tackle,  his  pipes, 
his  gun,  his  cricketing  things,  and  all  his  old  rubbish 
she  dusts  and  sets  back  in  their  places.  If  Pierce  walked 
in  any  day  he  would  find  the  room  ready  for  him.  Every 
night,  long  after  I  am  in  bed,  I  know  that  Aline's  light 
is  burning,  for  our  rooms  communicate,  and  a  long  shaft 
of  gold  comes  in  under  the  door  after  my  candle  has  been 
extinguished.  I  do  not  hear  her  moving  about,  and  then 
I  know  that  she  is  praying  for  Pierce. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ANNAGASSAN    RACES. 

IT  was  the  very  month  before  Pierce  left  us,  and 
brilliant  April  weather,  when  we  played  that  prank 
which  ended  so  disastrously  for  me,  and  the  incidents  of 
which  I  can  never  recall  without  a  blush. 

I  was  a  pickle  in  those  days,  and  ripe  for  all  sorts  of 
mischief,  while  Esther  was  then,  as  now,  ever  ready  to 
follow  where  I  led.  As  for  the  boys — did  you  ever  know 
boys  who  didn't  like  forbidden  fruit?  As  they  say  here- 
abouts, "Would  a  duck  swim?"  and  the  duck's  attitude 
towards  her  native  element  was  precisely  that  of  Hugh 
and  Donald  towards  any  wild  freak,  whether  suggested 
by  themselves  or  by  those  who  ought  to  have  known 
better. 

It  was  an  exquisite  day,  more  like  June  than  April, 
and  Pierce  and  Aline  had  gone  for  one  of  their  fishing 
excursions  together,  taking  a  basket  of  luncheon  with 
them. 

"You'll  be  good  children,"  Aline  had  said  to  us,  "and 
not  get  into  any  mischief,  and  be  in  punctually  for 
luncheon,  and  not  give  Oona  any  trouble." 


32  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

We  said  we  would  be  all  she  desired  us;  and  she  went 
off  with  her  look  of  placid  contentment.  We  really 
meant  to  behave  very  well,  but  we  had  not  remembered 
then  that  it  was  the  greatest  day  of  the  year  for  the 
whole  country-side,  the  day  of  Annagassan  Races. 

Well,  we  remembered  it  soon  enough — too  soon — after 
Aline  had  gone;  and  at  first  we  had  no  wilder  idea  than 
to  ensconce  ourselves  in  the  ivy  of  the  old  abbey  gable  and 
watch  the  country  people  walking  and  driving  by. 

"There'll  be  no  one  left  in  the  village,"  said  Donald; 
"  even  the  babies  are  going." 

"  Barney  M'Gee  will  be  left,"  said  Hugh,  "  for  he  told  me 
yesterday  he  was  took  with  the  rheumatiz  fearful.  '  Yez 
wouldn't  be  after  wantin'  the  little  mare  an'  the  side-car,' 
said  he,  'for  if  yez  would,  yez'll  be  kindly  welcome?'" 

"I  say,"  I  cried  out  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment, 
"why  shouldn't  we  take  Barney's  offer,  and  see  the  races?" 

The  boys  stood  up  and  jumped  over  the  backs  of  their 
chairs  to  express  their  enthusiastic  approval  of  the 
suggestion.  Only  Esther  timidly  asked  what  Aline 
would  say. 

"Say!"  I  responded  disingenuously.  "Why,  what 
would  she  say  ?  She  never  said  we  weren't  to  go." 

"Let  us  ask  Oona  to  give  us  our  lunch  to  take  with 
us,"  said  one  of  the  boys. 

"  If  you  do,"  said  I,  "  Oona  will  smell  a  rat  and  spoil 
everything.  I  have  threepence,  and  we  can  buy  some 
gingerbread.  Mind,  the  twins  aren't  to  know,  or  they 
will  tell  Oona." 


ANNAGASSAN   RACES.  33 

"Or  they  will  make  us  take  them.  They're  horrid 
cheeky  little  things,"  said  twelve-year-old  Donald,  "  and 
it  would  be  ridiculous  to  be  seen  with  a  pair  of  kids  like 
them." 

We  got  off  without  Oona  suspecting  us,  and  made  for 
the  village.  So  far  as  sounds  of  humanity  were  concerned, 
it  was  silent  as  the  grave,  the  place  being  given  over  to 
cocks  and  hens,  and  goats,  and  pigs,  and  cats,  and  ducks, 
and  turkeys, — except  that  old  Barney  sat  on  his  door-step 
wearing  an  expectant  look. 

"I  thought  yez'd  come  to-day,  bein'  offered  the  con- 
vayniance  of  the  car  an'  horse.  Sure  young  blood'll  be 
young  blood,  an'  even  the  dogs  is  off  to  Annagassan  Races. 
Not  so  much  as  an  intelligent  baste  for  me  to  exchange  a 
word  wid  until  the  people  comes  troopin'  home  in  the  cool 
of  the  evenin'." 

The  boys  "yoked  up"  the  old  mare  under  Barney's 
supervision.  She  was  a  very  Rosinante  of  a  steed,  and 
her  harness,  which  must  have  been  the  first  harness 
made,  was  broken  in  many  places,  and  tied  together 
with  stout  twine.  The  car  was  coated  with  years  of 
mud,  which  hung  down  in  stalactites  behind,  and  the  old 
cushions  protruded  their  hair  stuffing  in  every  direction 
through  the  rags  and  tatters  that  pretended  to  cover  it. 
However,  Barney  looked  at  it  with  such  pride  when  it 
stood  ready  for  us  that  none  of  us  had  the  heart  to  find 
fault  with  the  equipage. 

Off  we  started,  Donald  driving,  and  with  lurchings  of 
the  old  mare  to  this  side  and  that,  which  sent  the  fowls 

(  M  436 )  C 


34  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

flying  in  every  direction,  amid  shrieks  of  indignation 
from  the  hens.  However,  when  once  she  had  got  clear 
of  the  village,  she  settled  down  to  a  leisurely  walk,  which 
seemed  likely  to  get  us  to  Annagassan  about  sunset. 
When  Donald  tickled  her  with  the  whip  she  only  flicked 
her  tail  as  at  an  intrusive  fly.  This  made  us  laugh,  and  at 
the  sound  of  our  laughter  the  old  mare  turned  calmly  on 
to  a  green  patch  at  the  side  of  the  road  and  settled  to 
make  a  hearty  luncheon. 

However,  by  dint  of  threats  and  coaxing  we  got  her 
to  a  better  pace  in  time,  and  reached  Annagassan  just 
after  the  second  race  had  been  run.  We  were  all  pretty 
hot  and  dusty,  for  we  had  walked  up  every  hill,  and  we 
had  assisted  the  mare  over  so  many  difficult  places,  that, 
but  for  the  grandeur  of  it,  as  the  boys  said,  we  might  as 
well  have  walked. 

The  boys  had  come  off  in  their  old  homespuns  for  fear 
of  arousing  Oona's  suspicions,  but  Esther  and  I  had 
managed  to  creep  out  in  our  new  pink  ginghams,  which 
we  weren't  supposed  to  "wear  for  a  month  yet.  I  thought 
Esther  looked  lovely,  with  the  sparkle  and  glow  in  her 
dusky  face,  and  her  eyes,  brown  as  a  trout  stream,  made 
deeper  in  colour  by  contrast  with  her  pink  frock.  Of 
course  she  had  only  cotton  gloves  and  a  cheap  little  black 
straw  hat  with  pink  roses  in  it,  but  I  am  sure  she  was  far 
prettier  than  any  of  the  fine  ladies  who  presently  passed 
us  by  with  their  cavaliers,  on  their  way  to  see  the  horses 
take  the  big  jump. 

I  wasn't  a  bit  pleased  to  see  that  some  of  the  gentlemen 


ANNAGASSAN   RACES.  35 

looked  at  her  as  if  they  admired  her  very  much.  It  vexed 
me  even  more  than  the  smiles  of  some  of  the  ladies  at  our 
equipage  and  ourselves.  I  felt  rather  the  worse  for  the 
wear  by  this  time,  though  Esther  seemed  to  be  irreproach- 
ably fresh;  and  the  boys  with  their  hair  sticking  out 
through  their  tattered  straw  hats,  and  their  muddy  boots 
and  faded  clothes,  looked  a  pair  of  little  scarecrows 
indeed. 

People  passed  us  by  with  an  amused  smile  whom  we 
should  never  have  dreamt  of  admitting  to  Brandon  in 
the  old  days,  nor  indeed  to-day  for  the  matter  of  that. 
There  was  that  horrid  Miss  Pettigrew,  the  daughter  of  a 
very  disreputable  attorney,  who  is  said  to  have  done  a 
good  deal  of  dirty  work  for  Sir  Rupert  De  Lacy,  and  to 
have  made  his  money  by  very  questionable  means  indeed. 
Well,  I  saw  this  great  flaunting  peony  of  a  creature  look 
at  Esther's  unconscious  face  with  a  toss  of  the  head,  and 
an  impudent,  jeering  smile,  which  made  me  furious  for  a 
moment,  till  I  remembered  that  she  was  only  Pettigrew's 
daughter,  and  could  know  no  better.  She  took  occasion 
to  pass  very  near  to  us,  flaunting  her  silks  like  any 
peacock,  so  near  that  we  had  to  stand  back  a  little  to  let 
her  pass.  There  was  a  gentleman  with  her,  and  for  a 
moment  I  included  him  in  my  glance  of  haughty  indig- 
nation. But  only  for  a  moment. 

He  was  quite  young,  and  his  face  had  a  very  bright 
expression,  but  just  then  he  looked  grave,  almost  angry, 
I  thought,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  what  Miss  Pettigrew 
had  whispered  to  him  disgusted  him  not  a  little.  Any- 


36  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

how,  as  he  passed  quite  close  to  us,  he  lifted  his  hat 
gravely,  and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  bright  brown  hair, 
rippled  all  over,  despite  its  close  cutting.  Then  they  were 
gone. 

I  turned  round,  to  find  Mag  Byrne,  the  beggar-woman, 
and  one  of  the  characters  of  the  country,  at  my  elbow. 
Mag  had  seen  the  little  drama,  and  now  spat  out  ex- 
pressively. 

"  To  think  of  the  likes  of  her  rubbin'  her  dirty  skirts 
against  rale  quality  like  yourselves,  Miss  Hilda  dear! 
Why,  I  remember  her  father  thankful  to  get  a  plateful 
of  mate  at  the  kitchen  door  of  your  own  house,  my  dear, 
that's  a  shoneen  now,  an'  his  daughter  trapesin'  about 
wid  the  officers  from  the  barracks." 

I  laughed  at  Mag's  indignation,  and  my  own  somehow 
disappeared.  So  Miss  Pettigrew's  escort  was  one  of  the 
officers  from  the  barracks.  Well,  he  looked  a  gentleman, 
at  all  events,  however  he  came  to  be  in  such  strange 
company. 

All  the  fine  folk  were  in  the  carriage  enclosure,  or  on 
the  grand  stand.  We  were  out  on  the  hill  among  the 
farmers'  carts  and  the  dancing  tents  and  Aunt  Sallies; 
and  Esther  and  I  enjoyed  the  humour  of  it  all  greatly. 
Quite  early  in  the  day  the  boys  had  gone  off  to  amuse 
themselves,  but  as  they  came  back  frequently  to  share 
their  raptures  with  us,  we  were  not  anxious.  Fortunately 
for  them,  the  place  was  full  of  their  friends,  people  who 
had  lived  on  Brandon  land  for  more  generations  than 
they  or  we  could  count,  and  to  whom  it  was  untold  pride 


ANNAGASSAN   RACES.  37 

and  joy  to  "  trate"  the  young  gentlemen  to  all  the  fun  of 
the  fair.  I  offered  them  some  of  the  threepenny- worth 
of  gingerbread,  but  my  offer  was  received  with  scorn. 
They  had  been  royally  banqueted  on  ham  and  chicken 
and  ginger- beer  and  rhubarb -tart,  and  had  seen  the 
bearded  lady  and  the  giant  and  the  dwarf,  and  were 
inclined  to  be  rather  contemptuous  of  us. 

We  ourselves  were  not  a  bit  sorry  when  Mrs.  O'Sullivan, 
Oona's  cousin,  came  over  to  us  and  implored  us  humbly 
to  share  her  home-made  bread-and-butter,  and  the  little 
pot  of  tea  she  had  made  by  the  aid  of  a  spirit-lamp.  We 
were  very  hungry  by  this  time,  and  we  were  not  proud 
with  our  own  people.  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  chicken 
and  the  champagne  on  the  drags  in  the  enclosure  wasn't 
half  so  much  enjoyed  as  was  our  repast  out  of  Mrs. 
O'Sullivan's  basket. 

The  people  about  us  vied  with  each  other  in  being  kind 
and  courteous  to  us.  Indeed  they  were  quite  congratu- 
latory to  Annagassan  Races  for  being  honoured  by  our 
presence,  though  they  abstained  from  looking  at  Barney's 
car  and  mare,  while  they  detailed  reminiscences  of  our 
grandfather's  appearance,  driving  a  coach  and  six,  at  these 
same  races. 

If  there  had  only  been  our  own  dear  good  people,  I 
could  have  enjoyed  the  races  as  heartily  as  the  boys  did, 
but  somehow,  as  the  afternoon  went  on  and  the  bevies  of 
fine  folk  passed  and  repassed  us,  I  grew  vexed  and  dis- 
quieted. It  was  not  the  supercilious  glances  of  the  ladies 
so  much  as  the  behaviour  of  some  of  the  gentlemen.  As 


38  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

they  passed  they  stared  hard  at  us;  and  presently  they 
would  come  back  alone,  or  accompanied  by  other  gentle- 
men, and  walk  past  slowly,  or  stand  at  a  little  distance 
looking  at  us. 

That  was  the  worst,  I  said  to  myself  crossly,  of  having 
a  beauty  sister,  for  of  course  they  could  not  want  to  look 
at  me.  Esther  had  forgotten  her  misgivings,  and  was 
enjoying  the  day  as  thoroughly  as  the  two  boys.  She  had 
the  air  of  rapture  which  very  small  joys  have  the  power 
of  awakening  in  her,  and  as  she  sat  there  radiant  and 
smiling,  with  her  red  lips  parted  over  her  little  white 
teeth,  and  her  eyes  shining,  I  couldn't  wonder  at  people 
liking  to  look  at  her. 

In  other  circumstances  I  should  have  enjoyed  her 
enjoyment  myself.  But  I  had  been  gradually  remember- 
ing that  I  was  the  really  responsible  person  in  this  mad 
freak,  that  I  was  seventeen  and  ought  to  have  known 
better,  that  Aline  would  have  been  so  vexed  if  she  could 
have  seen  these  men,  and  so  on.  Conscience  was  pricking 
me  so  that  at  last,  out  of  discomfort,  I  grew  cross  with 
Esther,  and  said  to  her  viciously: 

"  Don't  look  so  ridiculously  happy.  You  are  for  all  the 
world  like  Juliet  in  the  play,  and  you  are  making  those 
people  stare  at  us." 

Then  I  was  quite  sorry,  for  her  dear  face  fell  and  her 
eyes  clouded  over. 

"There,  there!"  I  said  repentantly.  "I  didn't  want  to 
frighten  you;" — at  which  her  face  slowly  brightened 
again.  "After  all,  since  we  are  here,  there's  no  reason 


ANNAGASSAN  RACES.  39 

why  you  shouldn't  get  all  the  enjoyment  you  can  out 
of  it- 
Soon  afterwards  I  had  forgotten  the  disagreeable 
things  myself  in  excitement  over  the  great  race  of  the 
day.  The  race  lay  between  an  English  horse  and  a  little 
mare  called  Brandon  Biddy,  that  came  of  stock  from 
my  grandfather's  stables,  so  that  my  excitement  was  at 
once  a  family  affair  and  an  affair  of  patriotism.  Some 
one  on  the  hill  had  brought  us  a  little  glass,  so  that  I  was 
able  to  watch  the  mare's  green  and  white,  as  the  horses 
and  their  jockeys  spread  themselves  over  the  course  like 
a  many-coloured  ribbon.  The  mare  won  by  a  length,  and 
all  at  once  I  forgot  myself  and  shouted  as  wildly  as  any- 
one there,  though,  as  everyone  was  shouting,  it  wasn't 
likely  that  I  should  be  noticed. 

However,  when  I  discovered  what  I  had  been  betrayed 
into  doing,  I  felt  myself  turning  crimson.  I  shut  up  the 
race-glasses  sharply  and  took  a  furtive  look  round  to  see 
if  anyone  had  observed  me.  The  crowd  on  the  hill-side 
was  laughing  and  cheering  and  shaking  hands  all  round; 
and  some  men  were  even  flinging  their  hats  in  the  air 
again  and  again  in  the  exuberance  of  their  delight.  I 
was  sure  I  had  not  been  noticed,  and  I  was  able  to  turn 
to  Esther  and  answer  her  "  Oh,  Hilda,  isn't  it  splendid?" 
with  a  cheerful  affirmative. 

But  just  then  I  saw,  standing  quite  near  us,  the  gentle- 
man who  had  been  with  Miss  Pettigrew  earlier  in  the 
day.  His  face  was  full  of  amusement,  and  it  flashed 
upon  me  in  a  minute  that  he  had  been  watching  my 


40  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

ridiculous  capers.  I  was  furious,  and  looked  so,  I  suppose, 
for  his  amused  look  gave  way  to  one  of  such  gentleness 
and  deprecation,  that  I  felt  my  anger  quite  giving  way. 
Though  I  was  sure  that  I  should  never  cease  to  blush 
for  having  appeared  so  ridiculous. 

However,  just  then  the  boys  came  up. 

"  They're  saddling  for  the  last  race,"  cried  Hugh,  "  and 
we'd  better  be  making  our  way  out  of  this  crush,  or  we 
won't  get  home  till  midnight  with  the  old  mare.  We'll 
see  the  last  race  just  as  well  from  the  Upper  Road." 

We  agreed,  and  I  was  delighted  with  the  boy's  fore- 
sight, for  I  didn't  want  to  be  coming  through  the  gap 
side  by  side  with  all  the  carriages  and  drags.  So  we 
turned  our  Rosinante  around,  and  came  down  from  the 
hill  and  across  a  field,  and  through  the  gap,  where  half 
an  hour  later  there  would  be  such  a  tremendous  struggle 
for  precedence. 

The  mare  was  eager  for  her  stable  and  trotted  briskly 
enough  over  the  grass  fields  to  the  road.  We  halted  to 
see  the  last  race  run,  and  then  we  turned  from  the  Upper 
Road  into  a  quiet  by  -  road  which  would  take  us  to 
Brandon  village  by  a  slight  detour.  By  taking  it  we 
should  escape  the  crowd,  and  as  we  turned  off  the  high- 
road and  caught  in  the  distance  already  the  shouting  and 
tumult  that  showed  the  people  were  trying  to  get  first 
through  the  gap,  I  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief.  Then  I 
turned  to  the  others  with  a  smile. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  we've  had  a  delightful  day  and  no 
harm  done.  All's  well  that  ends  well!" 


ANNAGASSAN  RACES.  41 

But  just  at  that  moment  there  came  from  the  Upper 
Road  a  blast  of  a  horn,  followed  by  the  clatter  of  hoofs. 
Barney's  mare  started  and  flung  herself  almost  back  on 
us;  then  she  was  off  like  the  wind.  Barney  had  always 
said  that  she  had  a  touch  of  the  racer.  Perhaps  the 
events  of  the  day  had  wakened  it  in  her.  Anyhow  the 
noise  of  the  drags  was  too  much  for  her,  and  she  was  off. 


T 


CHAPTER  IV. 

I  PAY  THE  RECKONING. 

I  JUST  remember  the  boys  shouting  at  us  to  hold  on 
and  sit  steady.  We  didn't  require  that  instruction, 
for  every  country-bred  girl  knows  that  the  only  thing 
to  do  when  a  horse  bolts,  is  to  keep  quiet  and  do  nothing. 
I  gripped  my  side  of  the  car  and  watched  Hugh,  who 
was  driving  beside  me,  fling  himself  half-way  across  the 
car  in  his  effort  to  keep  a  tight  grip  of  the  reins.  The 
wretched  car  was  swinging  from  side  to  side,  and  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Esther,  rather  pale,  holding  on 
quietly  to  her  side  as  I  was  doing  to  mine. 

I  wondered  at  the  calm  of  my  own  mind.  "If  we 
meet  nothing,"  said  I,  "and  the  harness  holds,  we  are 
safe  enough,  for  it  won't  take  long  to  tire  her  out."  On 
the  other  hand,  if  the  harness  did  not  hold,  or  we  met 
anything  coming  in  the  opposite  direction,  some  of  us 
would  get  hurt.  I  watched  the  flying  hedges  as  the  car 
flung  us  high  and  low,  with  an  absolute  calm  that  looked 
neither  before  nor  after.  I  hope  God  always  sends  such 
courage  when  one  really  needs  it.  So  the  mad  flight 
went  on  in  absolute  silence  as  far  as  we  were  concerned. 

But  of  course  the  wretched  harness  could  not  stand 


MY   POOR  LITTLE  GIRL,    I   AM   AFRAID  YOU   ARE  HURT!" 


I   PAY  THE   RECKONING.  43 

the  strain.  Hugh  suddenly  fell  back  towards  us  with  a 
broken  rein  in  his  hand.  The  mare  gave  a  tremendous 
leap  to  one  side.  There  was  a  heap  of  stones  on  the  side 
of  the  road,  obligingly  left  there  for  our  misfortune  by 
Mullaly,  the  road  contractor.  In  a  moment  she  had 
kicked  herself  free  of  her  harness  and  was  off  again,  but 
I  saw  nothing  of  this,  for  I  was  lying  at  the  bottom  of  a 
deep  ditch,  with  my  foot  turned  under  me,  and  I  don't 
know  how  many  newts  and  young  frogs  walking  about 
my  pink  frock. 

I  am  not  the  fainting  sort,  but  the  fall  stunned  me. 
When  I  came  to  myself  I  had  my  head  on  somebody's 
shoulder.  I  looked  up  into  the  face  bending  over  me, 
and  saw  a  pair  of  gray  eyes  full  of  honest  concern  for 
me.  It  was  the  young  man  who  had  been  Miss  Petti- 
grew's  escort.  He  was  bathing  my  face  with  a  silk 
handkerchief  dipped  in  water  someone  had  brought.  I 
looked  at  him  for  a  minute  and  tried  to  sit  upright,  but 
I  only  succeeded  in  uttering  a  sharp  cry. 

"  My  poor  little  girl,"  he  said  with  pitying  tenderness, 
"  I  am  afraid  you  are  hurt.  Where  is  it?" 

"  My  foot,"  I  gasped;  and  I  felt  that  I  was  half-fainting 
again  with  pain. 

"  Keep  quiet.  It  is  probably  sprained,"  he  said  quickly. 
"  Let  me  look  at  it." 

I  heard  him  call  to  someone  for  a  coat,  which  he 
arranged  under  my  head.  Then  I  remembered. 

"Are  the  others  all  right?"  I  cried. 

"Here  they  are  to  answer  for  themselves,"  he  said; 


44  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

and  then  I  saw  that  the  boys  and  Esther  were  standing 
by,  with  very  frightened  faces,  all  plastered  with  mud 
and  dirt,  but  evidently  none  the  worse  for  the  accident. 

"  We  are  all  right,  darling,"  said  Esther,  who  was  cry- 
ing, "  only  alarmed  about  you." 

"  I  am  going  to  hurt  you,  my  poor  little  girl,"  said  the 
strange  young  man,  "  but  you  must  be  brave,  and  I  will 
make  you  easier  for  the  journey  home." 

I  felt  him  cutting  away  my  shoe  and  stocking.  It 
was  agony  every  bit  of  it,  but  I  endured  it,  only  saying 
my  prayers,  as  I  had  seen  the  peasants  do  when  they 
suffered.  Then  I  felt  him  binding  my  ankle  about  with 
something  cold  and  wet,  that  seemed  to  relieve  me  a 
little;  when  he  had  finished,  he  bent  over  me  again,  and 
I  smiled  faintly  at  him. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  me,"  I  managed  to  say. 

"Good  to  you!"  he  echoed.  "I  wish  I  could  save  you 
the  horrible  suffering  I  know  it  is.  I  hope  it  is  no  worse 
than  a  bad  sprain,  but  a  doctor  must  see  it  immediately 
you  get  home.  But  how  to  get  you  home,  that  is  the 
question?" 

"  I'll  run  to  the  cross-roads,"  volunteered  Donald,  "  and 
bring  Larry  Brady's  ass  and  cart.  The  ass  will  travel  as 
slow  as  you  like,  and  she  can  lie  full-length  in  the  cart." 

"  Right,  my  boy !  If  they  can  send  a  feather-bed  and 
pillow,  so  much  the  better." 

Donald  was  off  like  a  shot. 

"I  hope  you  have  not  far  to  take  her,"  he  said, 
turning  to  Esther. 


I   PAY   THE   RECKONING.  45 

I  saw  she  was  about  to  tell  him,  and  I  darted  a  warn- 
ing glance  at  her  which  she  understood. 

"  Not  very  far,"  she  said,  haltingly. 

"  To  Brandon  village,"  he  asked,  "  or  one  of  the  farm- 
houses yonder?  I  don't  think  this  road  leads  anywhere 
else,  except  to  Brandon  itself." 

Now  I  was  vexed  at  his  taking  us  for  peasants  or 
farmers'  daughters,  though  I  didn't  want  him  to  know 
we  were  Brandons.  So  I  took  the  words  out  of  Esther's 
mouth. 

"Yes,  to  Brandon  village,"  I  said,  which  was  true 
enough,  for  we  had  to  pass  through  the  village,  and 
some  of  us  would  have  to  explain  to  Barney  the  accident 
to  his  property.  That  was  worrying  me  too,  for  we 
could  ill  afford  to  make  up  the  damage. 

I  closed  my  eyes  after  that  and  said  nothing,  for  the 
throbbing  pain  in  my  ankle  made  me  feel  exhausted. 
Through  my  closed  eyelids  I  could  feel  the  pity  in  the 
kind  strange  eyes  that  were  watching  me.  He  was  so 
kind  that  I  felt  I  could  forgive  him  not  only  for  not 
recognizing  us  at  once  as  Brandons  —  which  I  should 
have  hated  him  to  do — but  for  having  walked  with  that 
Pettigrew  creature.  Evidently  she  had  not  told  him  who 
we  were.  Whatever  her  jibe  had  been,  it  had  not  told 
him  that  we  were  Brandons,  —  the  proudest  and  most 
impoverished  race  within  the  four  seas  of  Ireland. 

My  thoughts  went  from  one  thing  to  another,  and 
presently  grew  hazy  and  dull  with  continued  pain. 
Then  I  became  aware  that  the  ass-cart  had  arrived, 


46  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

with  Mrs.  Brady  as  well,  full  of  lamentations  and 
wirrasthrues.  I  was  very  much  afraid  she  would  give  us 
away  to  the  stranger,  but  he  was  so  engaged  looking 
after  my  comfort  that  I  don't  think  he  heard  a  word 
she  said.  It  was  he  who  lifted  me  into  the  little  cart,  so 
gently  that  my  ankle  scarcely  hurt.  As  he  lifted  me,  I 
saw  his  fine  bay  horse  fastened  to  a  gate.  He  must 
have  been  riding  from  the  races  and  witnessed  our 
mishap  from  the  Upper  Road. 

He  laid  me  down  gently  on  the  soft  feather-bed.  A.s 
he  bent  low  to  do  it,  his  face  almost  touched  mine. 
"Good,  brave  little  girl!"  he  whispered.  Then  he  turned 
to  the  others. 

"  Who  is  going  to  lead  the  ass?"  he  asked. 

"  I,"  said  Hugh.     "  I,"  said  Donald. 

"  You  had  better  lead,  being  the  oldest  and  wisest,"  he 
said  to  Hugh,  with  a  smile;  "and  take  care  you  do  not 
jog  her.  Fortunately  the  road  seems  pretty  level." 

He  lifted  his  hat,  and  I  thought  I  detected  a  wistful 
look  in  his  eyes.  I  am  sure  he  wanted  to  know  who  we 
were,  and  to  ask  if  he  might  hear  how  I  progressed,  but 
nobody  said  anything.  He  stood  watching  us  as  we 
moved  off  slowly,  and  when  we  had  gone  quite  a  long 
way,  before  the  road  turned,  Hugh  looked  back,  and 
said: 

"  Your  friend  is  watching  us  still,  Hilda."  And  then 
added  in  his  emphatic  way,  "I  call  that  no  end  of  a 
good  fellow!" 

I  said  nothing.     I  was  thinking  dreamily  that   the 


I    PAY   THE   RECKONING.  47 

stranger  had  never  once  looked  at  Esther,  always  at  me. 
I  wondered  who  he  might  be.  Anyhow  we  were  never 
likely  to  see  or  hear  of  him  again.  We  never  went  out 
anywhere  we  were  likely  to  meet  him,  and  if  he  was,  as 
Mag  Byrne  had  suggested,  an  officer  from  the  barracks, 
he  would  presently  leave  with  his  regiment  and  go  out 
into  the  wide  world,  where  even  friends  find  it  so  hard 
to  meet. 

But  here  we  were  at  last  at  Brandon  hall-door,  and 
Aline  was  running  down  the  steps.  Esther  had  gone  on 
before  to  explain  things  to  her.  I  saw  that  Aline  looked 
very  much  disturbed,  but  when  her  eyes  met  mine  they 
held  nothing  but  love  and  pity. 

Well,  they  sent  for  old  Dr.  Devine,  who  came  and 
examined  my  sprain.  He  was  very  grave  about  it,  for 
it  was  no  sprain  at  all,  but  a  compound  fracture.  After 
that  I  was  ill  for  a  long  time,  enduring  such  pain  and 
fever  with  my  hurt — for  there  were  complications — that 
it  wore  me  to  skin  and  bone.  Then  Aline  sent  for  a 
Dublin  specialist,  for  Dr.  Devine  was  very  old,  and  not 
altogether  to  be  trusted.  Indeed,  the  Dublin  doctor 
found  things  so  bad  that  a  bone  had  to  be  broken  again 
and  re-set.  However,  after  months  of  it  I  was  carried 
downstairs,  hollow-eyed,  and  the  ghost  of  my  old  self. 
But  I  had  plenty  of  cause  for  gratitude,  for  I  had  very 
narrowly  escaped  being  a  permanent  invalid,  though, 
when  I  could  walk  about,  I  was  a  little  lame,  as  the 
Dublin  doctor  had  feared  I  should  be  for  a  long  time, 
and  I  have  never  been  quite  my  old  strong  self  again. 


48  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

However,  they  have  all  been  so  good  to  me,  that  even 
in  my  misfortune  there  is  sweetness.  It  was  quite  a 
novelty  in  our  strong  family  to  have  someone  to  wait 
on,  and  I  believe  the  boys  and  the  twins  were  delighted 
beyond  telling  in  carrying  my  footstool  or  fetching  a 
shawl  or  pillow  for  me,  or,  when  I  went  with  them  on 
their  expeditions,  carrying  a  little  bundle  of  rugs  and 
wraps  with  which  I  should  be  made  comfortable  when 
we  sat  down  to  picnic  among  the  harebells,  or  in  a  sunny 
hay-field  sloping  to  the  river. 

I  think  it  was  a  comfort  to  Aline  to  have  me  to  dis- 
tract her  mind  when  Pierce  went  away.  Once,  after  a 
long  time,  I  said  to  her  that  I  was  sorry  for  the  escapade 
which  had  ended  so  disastrously. 

"Poor  little  Hilda!"  she  said.  "  You  have  had  to  pay 
heavily  for  a  bit  of  childish  folly;"  and  she  stroked  my 
hair  in  her  exquisite  way. 

Yet  I  think  that  if  all  had  ended  well  that  day  Aline 
would  have  been  very  angry  with  us,  for  she  is  so  proud ; 
and  lying  quietly  so  long,  I  seemed  to  have  grown  up 
suddenly,  so  that  I  understood  how  she  might  wince 
under  the  incidents  that  had  seemed  glorious  fun  to  us 
younger  ones. 

As  she  sat  beside  me  another  day,  feeding  me  with 
little  bits  of  a  peach,  I  asked  her  a  question  which  had 
been  in  my  mind. 

"Aline,"  I  said,  "where  does  all  this  come  from — the 
peaches  and  grapes,  and  game  and  wine?  And  how  did 
you  pay  for  the  Dublin  doctor  for  me?" 


I   PAY   THE   RECKONING.  49 

She  benfc  down  and  kissed  me  again. 

"  I  sold  the  collet,"  she  said  quietly. 

"Sir  Rupert's  collet!"  I  almost  shrieked.  " But  it  was 
your  own — the  one  beautiful  thing  you  had!  Grand- 
mother left  it  to  you  herself." 

"  I  had  so  much  more  right  to  part  with  it,"  she  said, 
looking  at  the  fruit  she  was  peeling,  not  at  me. 

"Why  didn't  you  sell  some  of  the  other  jewels?"  I 
asked,  almost  indignantly. 

"Family  jewels,  dear,  which  must  remain  Brandon 
property.  They  are  for  Pierce's  wife  some  day.  Besides, 
I  didn't  care  for  the  collet.  That  man's  gift  couldn't  be 
of  good  omen." 

After  that  I  said  nothing  more,  though  I  cried  with 
sheer  love  and  gratitude,  when  Aline  had  left  me,  to 
think  I  had  such  a  sister. 

During  my  illness  I  had  often  thought  of  the  gentle- 
man who  had  been  so  kind  to  me  that  day.  When  I 
was  at  last  out-of-doors  and  able  to  sit  in  the  rose-garden 
near  Aline,  I  asked  Hugh,  who  was  sitting  by  me  mend- 
ing his  fishing-tackle: 

"Do  you  know,  Hugh,  what  regiment  is  quartered  in 
Annagassan  Barracks  just  now?" 

"No.  What  do  you  want  to  know  for?"  looking  up 
at  me  in  amazement.  "  You  don't  know  anyone  there." 

"  Well,  I  think  the  gentleman  who  was  so  kind  the  day 
I  got  hurt  was  probably  an  officer  there." 

"Oh,  is  that  it?  Well,  if  he  was,  he's  gone,  for  there 
is  a  new  regiment  just  come  in.  The  other's  gone  to 

(M436)  D 


50  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

India.  Say,  Hilda,  weren't  we  duffers  not  to  have  asked 
him  to  call  ?  I  thought  it  was  pretty  queer  of  us,  but  it 
wasn't  my  place,  you  know." 

"  We  were  rather  duffers,"  said  L 

"I  expect  he'd  have  been  glad.  He  looked  a  right 
good  sort,  and  a  gentleman.  I  could  have  put  him  up  to 
a  lot  of  things,  and  Donald  and  I  want  some  male  friends. 
Of  course  you  girls  are  all  right,  but  a  man  wants  men," 
said  Hugh,  wisely. 

"Well,"  said  I  with  a  little  sigh,  "it's  no  use  talking 
now.  I  don't  suppose  he'll  ever  come  back  again." 

"  I  should  jolly  well  think  not.  I  wish  I  had  his  chance. 
Why  didn't  old  Desmond  take  a  fancy  to  me  instead  of 
to  Pierce?" 

"  Maybe  he  will,"  said  I  consolingly.  "  Some  day  when 
he  has  established  Pierce  he  will  send  for  you." 

Somehow  after  that,  when  I  began  to  write  stories  out 
of  my  head,  the  hero  always  was  brown-faced  and  gray- 
eyed.  He  had  always  a  ripple  of  close-cut  brown  hair, 
and  a  humorous  mouth,  and  such  a  kind  expression,  when 
anyone  was  in  trouble.  He  must  have  grown  rather 
monotonous  to  Esther,  my  only  audience,  who  will  listen 
entranced  for  hours  while  I  read  my  effusions. 

She  is  a  most  inspiriting  audience.  She  reads  her  own 
romance  into  everything,  and  to  see  her  flushed  cheeks 
and  wet,  eager  eyes  she  might  be  listening  to  Romeo 
and  Juliet  rather  than  to  my  poor  little  tales.  It  is  the 
worst  of  Esther,  that  she  has  so  little  discrimination. 
Give  her  a  love-story,  and  she  doesn't  mind  whether  the 


I   PAY  THE   RECKONING.  51 

scene  is  Kerry  or  Mantua,  the  writer  Hilda  Brandon  or 
William  Shakespeare.  "Oh,  it  is  lovely!"  she  cries  all 
the  same,  and  thirsting  for  more.  If  Esther  ever  falls  in 
love  may  I  be  there  to  see! 

Still  she  found  out  my  hero. 

"Why,  Hilda,"  she  said  one  day,  "Geoffrey  Stratford 
is  exactly  like  the  young  officer  who  helped  you  after 
Annagassan  Races;  and  so  was  Hilton  Beresford  and 
Jack  Vandaleur,  and  ever  so  many  more." 

"You  think  so?" — with  exaggerated  surprise.  "You 
must  only  fancy  it,  for  if  there  is  anything  I  pride  my- 
self on  it  is  the  originality  of  my  characters;  and  I  am 
sure  those  three  you  mention  are  not  a  bit  alike." 

"Perhaps  not,"  she  said  with  a  little  puzzled  line  be- 
tween her  brows.  "  Yet  I  thought  they  all  looked  alike. 
He  was  quite  nice  enough  for  a  hero  anyway.  You  re- 
member him,  Hilda?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I  disingenuously ;  "  but  you  don't  remember 
very  clearly  things  that  happened  when  you  were  in  such 
suffering,  you  know." 

"  Of  course  not,  you  poor  darling!  I  don't  suppose  you 
really  saw  him  a  bit.  Still  your  heroes  are  very  like  him." 

After  this  I  tried  a  course  of  fair  heroes,  but  somehow 
I  didn't  succeed  with  them  so  well.  That  is  the  worst 
of  having  such  limited  experience  as  we  have.  I  can't 
get  my  own  brothers  to  stand  for  their  portraits,  and  out- 
side them  I  know  only  Dr.  Devine  and  Mr.  Benson,  and 
the  people  in  the  village,  and  none  of  those  are  at  all 
heroic. 


CHAPTER   V. 

FREDA. 

ALINE  always  said  that  it  was  providential  that  Freda 
should  have  married,  and  married  a  rich  man.  She 
told  Freda  so  herself  one  day,  I  remember,  for  I  was  in 
the  room,  but  Freda  only  put  out  her  red  mouth,  and 
said  that  she  couldn't  see  things  in  that  light  at  all,  that 
she  could  have  endured  poverty  with  the  best  of  us,  and 
as  for  Jim's  being  a  rich  man,  well,  she  would  have 
married  him  if  he  hadn't  had  a  sole  to  his  boot,  or  a  rag 
to  his  back.  Poor,  dear,  dear  old  Jim,  it  was  as  hard 
to  imagine  him  shabby,  as  it  is  now  to  imagine  Freda 
back  again  in  our  ramshackle  life.  He  was  always  so 
fresh  and  trim,  with  such  immaculate  linen,  and  clothes 
that  even  we  rustics  felt  were  a  marvel  of  the  tailor's  art. 
What  a  dear,  jolly,  open-handed  fellow  he  was!  and  how 
little  any  of  us  could  have  believed  that  he  would  only 
live  two  years,  and  leave  Freda  a  young  widow  at  twenty. 
But,  after  all,  as  Esther  says,  Freda  was  perfectly  happy 
for  two  years,  and  that  is  not  given  to  many  people. 
And  then,  too,  she  has  her  little  son,  who  is  such  a  dear 
little  boy, — or  was  when  we  saw  him  two  years  old, — 
that  no  mother  could  be  very  unhappy  possessing  him. 


FREDA.  53 

Jim  had  been  visiting  old  Mrs.  Doyne  at  the  Valley 
House  when  he  and  Freda  saw  each  other  and  fell  in  love 
at  first  sight;  and  that,  says  Esther,  is  the  only  possible 
love.  I  remember  Freda  that  summer.  She  used  to 
wear  a  green  muslin  that  had  once  belonged  to  our  grand- 
mother, and  she  looked  lovely  in  it.  She  was  wearing  it 
the  very  first  day  she  ever  saw  Jim. 

Mrs.  Doyne  was  an  old  friend  of  mother's,  and  while 
she  lived  we  used  to  go  a  good  deal  to  the  Valley  House. 
Her  only  son  Alick  was  in  India,  and  she  was  very  lonely, 
and  liked  to  have  us  about  her.  I  think  she  hoped  that 
Alick  would  come  home,  and  that  he  and  Freda  would 
make  a  match  of  it,  for  Freda  was  her  favourite. 

We  hadn't  the  least  idea  that  she  had  a  visitor  that 
June  afternoon  when  Freda  and  I  set  out  to  have  tea  with 
Mrs.  Doyne,  I  looking  forward  agreeably  to  the  straw- 
berries and  cream  and  the  tea-cakes,  and  the  delicious 
rich  tea  in  the  faded  sweet-smelling  drawing-room  at  the 
Valley  House. 

Freda  could  never  bear  to  be  shabby  like  the  rest  of 
us,  and  I  remember  that  when  I  came  out  of  the  house 
and  found  her  waiting  for  me  on  the  lawn  in  the  sun,  I 
thought  she  looked  as  fine  as  heart  could  desire.  She 
was  wearing  her  sailor  hat,  and  had  tucked  a  large  bunch 
of  dark  Camille  de  Rohan  roses  into  her  belt;  and  the 
green  frock,  with  her  pale  face  and  red  lips,  and  all  her 
little  golden  rings  of  hair  like  a  baby's,  was  charming. 
I  was  rather  down  at  heel,  and  my  dress  was  crumpled, 
and  I  swung  my  hat  by  the  string  as  I  walked.  I  dare 


54  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

say  I  made  a  most  effective  contrast  to  Freda,  who  was 
so  spick  and  span  and  fresh  and  cool,  though  it  was  very 
hot  weather. 

Well,  we  sat  blinking  like  cats  in  the  big  shady  draw- 
ing-room after  the  brilliant  sun  outside,  and  then  dear 
old  Mrs.  Doyne  came  in  and  kissed  us,  and,  having  made 
us  sit  near  her,  kept  stroking  Freda's  hand  absently,  as 
she  had  a  way  of  doing. 

She  had  asked  after  everybody,  and  had  rung  the  bell 
for  tea  before  she  came  to  what  was  quite  an  exciting 
piece  of  news  for  our  corner  of  the  world. 

"  I  have  a  young  gentleman  staying  with  me,  my  dears, 
a  friend  of  Alick's,  and  such  a  nice  lad." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Doyne,"  said  I,  "  but  isn't  he  a  bother,  and 
how  do  you  manage  to  keep  him  amused?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  my  dear,  the  poor  young  fellow's  not 
very  strong.  He's  home  on  sick  leave,  and  he  promised 
Alick  he  wouldn't  return  without  bringing  him  news  of 
his  old  mother.  And  so  when  he  was  kind  enough  to  come 
all  this  long  way  to  keep  his  word  with  my  Alick,  and 
seemed  to  find  the  country  so  beautiful,  and  the  summer 
here  so  mild  and  sweet,  I  could  do  no  less  than  ask  him 
to  stay — could  I,  Hilda,  my  dear?  And  would  you 
believe  it? — he  seemed  quite  pleased  to  be  asked." 

"  And  why  shouldn't  he  be?"  I  said.  "  It's  easy  enough 
to  be  happy  in  this  house.  Only  I  was  thinking  of  an 
ordinary  man.  Sons  and  brothers  are  different,  of  course; 
but  one  always  thinks  a  man  must  be  wanting  to  do  some- 
thing. Of  course  if  he's  ill  it  makes  all  the  difference." 


FREDA.  55 

"  He's  scarcely  ill  now,"  said  Mrs.  Doyne.  "  He  says 
he  finds  the  air  here  wonderfully  curative.  And  I  assure 
you  Susan  and  I  enjoy  cosseting  him.  It's  almost  like 
having  Alick  to  pet  again;  though,  of  course,  Alick,  dear 
fellow,  was  never  ill,  and  no  subject  for  our  port- wine 
jellies,  and  beaten-up  eggs  which  Mr.  Hazeldine  seems  to 
enjoy  so  much." 

"What  does  he  do  all  day?"  asked  Freda. 

"  Oh,  he's  not  at  all  troublesome,  my  dear.  He  likes 
to  lie  in  the  sun,  with  his  cap  over  his  eyes,  and  soak  in 
the  air,  as  he  says.  Or  he  reads  and  talks  to  me  when  I 
am  ready  for  him,  or  knocks  the  billiard  balls  about,  or 
takes  long  walks  with  Rory.  Poor  Rory  hasn't  had  such 
good  times  since  his  master  went  away.  Oh,  by  the  way, 
I  thought  of  making  a  little  picnic  and  asking  you  young 
people.  Just  ourselves,  you  know,  to  Inver  Waterfall. 
I  could  have  the  barouche  out  for  any  one  who  didn't 
care  to  walk,  and  the  donkey-cart  could  take  over  the 
hampers." 

Of  course  we  were  rejoiced,  and  said  so.  Just  then 
the  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Doyne's  visitor  came  in.  He 
evidently  had  expected  to  find  no  one  but  her,  and  at 
first  I  think  he  could  hardly  make  us  out  in  the  dark 
room,  though  Freda's  gown  made  a  radiance  in  her  corner, 
as  if  the  sun  were  looking  in  through  green  leaves. 

I  thought  him  pleasant -looking  at  the  first  glance. 
He  would  naturally  be  bronzed,  and  a  little  brown  was 
already  stealing  over  the  pallor  of  recent  illness.  He 
was  freckled,  and  smiled  pleasantly,  showing  a  row  of 


56  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

white  teeth,  as  he  was  introduced  to  us.  Then  he  went 
over  to  Freda's  corner  and  sat  down  beside  her,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  they  were  talking  quite  like  old  friends. 
I  watched  them  while  I  drank  my  tea.  He  was  leaning 
forward  looking  at  Freda  as  he  talked.  She  listened 
with  a  slightly  averted  head,  as  was  her  way,  and  her 
quietly  dreamy  smile. 

Afterwards  he  went  out  into  the  garden,  and  Mrs.  Doyne 
and  I  walked  together  while  the  other  two  somehow  fell 
behind.  The  dear  old  lady  talked  on  about  her  roses  and 
her  pet  doves,  and  her  dairy,  and  her  dear  Alick,  while 
she  was  filling  a  little  basket  with  strawberries  for  us  to 
take  to  Aline.  After  a  while  we  found  a  shady  seat 
and  sat  down. 

"  Did  it  strike  you,  my  dear,"  asked  the  old  lady  sud- 
denly, "that  Mr.  Hazeldine  seemed  quite  taken  with 
your  sister?" 

"I  should  be  surprised  if  he  weren't,"  said  I.  "Do 
you  know,  Mrs.  Doyne,  I  admire  Freda  so  much?  I 
think  in  that  green  frock  she  is  exactly  like  a  lily  of  the 
valley — don't  you?" 

"  It  is  very  pretty  of  you  to  think  so,  dear  Hilda,  and 
she  is  indeed  very  fair  and  sweet." 

She  sighed  a  little,  and  I  guessed  it  was  with  a  faint 
fear  that  her  Alick  might  be  too  late  to  appreciate  that 
sweetness. 

"  He  seems  a  good  lad,"  she  went  on,  "  and  my  boy 
thinks  a  great  deal  of  him.  He  has  made  a  very  fine 
position  for  himself  for  so  young  a  man,  and  his  father, 


FREDA.  57 

Sir  John  Hazeldine,  is  a  very  rich  man,  a  London  banker, 
my  dear,  though  of  course  he  has  other  sons  than  this 
one." 

Now  this  didn't  interest  me  much,  for  I  couldn't  look 
as  far  ahead  as  Mrs.  Doyne.  Any  one  with  eyes  in  his 
head  must  admire  Freda,  but  admiration  and  love  are 
different  things.  And  I  didn't  care  a  bit  about  Mr.  Hazel- 
dine's  prospects.  I  was  such  a  goose  in  those  days  that 
I  believe  the  fact  of  poor  Jim's  prospects  being  so  rosy 
rather  diminished  my  interest  in  a  possible  romance. 

"  That's  pleasant  for  him,"  said  I,  standing  up  and 
opening  my  ragged  parasol.  "  But  now,  dear  Mrs.  Doyne, 
I  think  we  must  find  Freda,  and  be  thinking  of  getting 
home." 

We  found  the  pair  calmly  strolling  up  and  down  the 
avenue  of  chestnuts  by  the  trout-stream,  which  we  used 
to  call  the  Lovers'  Walk,  and  I  thought  Mr.  Hazeldine 
looked  as  if  we  had  come  too  soon. 

Well,  the  picnic  occurred  a  day  or  two  later,  and  after 
that  Mr.  Hazeldine  seemed  to  be  always  coming  over  to 
us,  or  a  party  of  us  going  to  the  Valley  House  for  tennis, 
or  a  gipsy  tea,  or  something  or  other.  But  from  the 
beginning  there  was  never  any  doubt  about  Mr.  Hazel- 
dine  and  Freda. 

He  didn't  pretend  to  think  of  anybody  but  her.  In- 
deed his  adoration  was  so  embarrassing  that  we  were 
always  glad  when,  after  a  few  minutes,  they  would  go 
mooning  off  down  the  sycamore  alleys,  or  round  the  pond 
at  the  garden-foot,  and  relieve  us  of  their  presence.  It 


58  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

made  the  boys  very  contemptuous  of  poor  Jim.  Hugh 
used  to  say  that  if  he  thought  he  could  ever  look  like 
that  he'd  hang  himself;  and  as  for  Donald,  his  scorn  for 
the  man  who  could  prefer  the  company  of  a  girl  to  a 
man's  company — by  which,  I  suppose,  he  meant  his  own 
— was  something  too  crushing. 

Freda  looked  lovely  in  those  days,  paler  even  than 
usual,  but  somehow  as  if  there  were  a  light  burning 
inside  the  whiteness. 

I  think  it  was  really  only  about  four  weeks  from  that 
day  Freda  and  I  went  to  the  Valley  House  that  Jim 
spoke,  but  we  thought  it  very  long.  It  was  the  first  love 
affair  we  had  had  in  the  family,  and  it  embarrassed  us 
all. 

I'm  sure  Aline  and  Pierce  did  their  best  to  be  very 
business-like  when  Jim  broke  in  on  them  one  day  and 
announced  that  Freda  had  accepted  him,  and  he  wanted 
to  be  married  before  the  summer  was  over.  But  there 
was  no  real  difficulty  in  the  way.  Mrs.  Doyne  knew  all 
about  Jim,  and  after  he  had  gone  over  to  England  to  see 
his  father  and  mother  and  tell  them  about  Freda,  they 
wrote  saying  how  sorry  they  were  not  to  be  able  to  take 
the  long  journey  to  see  their  son  married,  but  that  they 
looked  forward  to  seeing  Freda  afterwards,  which  seemed 
very  satisfactory,  though  the  letters  read  rather  stiltedly. 
That  might  be,  however,  because  they  were  English  people. 
I  had  a  kind  of  idea  at  the  time  that  Lady  Hazeldine 
resented  her  favourite  boy  being  married  by  a  wild 
Irishwoman.  However,  that  may  have  been  fancy,  but 


FREDA.  59 

we  thought  it  a  little  odd  that  none  of  them  came  to  the 
wedding. 

Jim  came  back  from  London  that  time  simply  laden 
with  the  most  beautiful  gifts,  not  only  for  Freda  but  for 
the  smallest  child  in  the  house,  and  for  Oona,  and  the 
little  maids,  and  some  of  the  poor  people  about,  whose 
acquaintance  he  had  made. 

We  all  agreed  that  Jim  and  Freda  were  well  matched, 
for  she  was  always  good  at  giving,  though  her  few  pretty 
things  were  dear  to  her. 

We  received  Jim's  gifts  rapturously,  but  he  would  say 
laughing : 

"  Don't  thank  me.  Wait  till  you  see  the  pretty  things 
I'll  send  you  from  India,  when  I  have  Freda  to  help  me 
choose  them." 

And  Freda  looked  on  at  his  giving  and  his  promises 
with  a  grave  delight,  as  if  he  were  fulfilling  wishes  of 
hers  which  had  long  been  denied.  It  was  really  such  a 
wonderful  thing  to  have  money  going  round  in  the 
family  at  last. 

Dear  old  Mrs.  Doyne  gave  Freda  her  trousseau.  It 
was  so  dear  of  her,  for  we  all  felt  that  the  marriage 
destroyed  her  long-cherished  hopes.  However,  it  was 
fortunate  that  Freda  didn't  wait  for  Alick,  for  he  married 
the  following  year,  and  not  long  after  that  our  dear  old 
friend  died,  so  that  Alick  will  hardly  ever  again  come  to 
the  Valley  House. 

Well,  Jim  and  Freda  were  married  one  beautiful  Sep- 
tember morning,  and  Esther  and  I  were  bridesmaids,  so 


60  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

fine  in  some  beautiful  gauzy  silk  stuff  which  Jim  had 
brought  us  from  London.  We  were  all  rather  miserable, 
for  Freda  was  going  away  so  far,  and  she  cried  a  few 
tears  herself  too,  though  she  couldn't  help  looking  as  if 
she  were  in  a  seventh  heaven  all  the  time. 

But,  as  Aline  said,  it  was  happiness  to  know  that  Freda 
was  safe  from  the  poverty  and  the  fear  of  having  to 
leave  Brandon,  which  is  the  lot  of  the  rest  of  us.  I 
know  that  Aline's  heart  is  troubled  for  all  her  chickens, 
and  in  addition  to  the  comfort  of  feeling  that  one  was 
safe,  I  think  she  had  a  little  hope  that  Freda,  if  she  was 
going  to  be  rich,  would  help  with  the  boys  and  the  twins, 
for  how  they  are  to  get  their  schooling,  much  less  be 
provided  for  later,  Heaven  knows. 

I  remember  the  last  thing  I  whispered  to  Freda  was: 

"  Be  sure  and  tell  me  if  they  have  gold  plate  every 
day  at  the  Hazeldines' " — for  Esther  and  I  had  been 
romancing  about  the  wealth  of  Jim's  people. 

And  she  laughed, — though  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears, 
— and  said  she  would  be  quite  sure  to  tell  me. 

But  she  never  did,  though  she  wrote  long  letters  to  us 
all,  and  kept  sending  us  all  kinds  of  useful  and  beautiful 
things.  She  said  very  little  indeed  about  Sir  John  and 
Lady  Hazeldine,  but  we  thought  it  was  because  she  was 
so  very  full  of  Jim,  for  her  letters  were  nothing  but  Jim, 
Jim,  Jim,  and  how  good  he  was  to  her,  and  what  a  happy 
woman  she  was.  And  so  it  was  after  they  went  to  India. 

Then  the  little  boy  was  born,  and  we  were  so  excited 
about  him,  at  least  we  girls  were,  for  boys  can't  be  ex- 


FREDA.  61 

pected  to  care  about  babies;  and  Freda  sent  us  a  picture 
of  him  when  he  was  eight  months  old,  with  his  Indian 
nurse,  and  we  thought  he  was  the  quaintest  and  sweetest 
little  thing  we  had  ever  seen. 

Alas! — poor  Freda! — that  all  her  palaces  should  have 
crumbled  into  dust.  Poor  Jim  took  a  chill  after  playing 
a  fast  game  of  tennis  one  day,  and  died  almost  with- 
out warning.  I  don't  like  even  to  think  of  it,  I  who 
had  seen  the  two  meet,  and  the  summer  of  their  love 
begin. 

When  Freda  came  to  see  us  a  year  or  so  later,  soon 
after  her  return  from  India,  she  was  not  the  same  Freda. 
Such  wide,  sorrowful  eyes,  in  a  face  the  soft  roundness 
of  which  had  given  way  to  piteous  hollows  and  angles. 
We  young  ones  were  not  much  with  her.  We  used  to 
go  away  out  of  her  hearing  with  the  little  boy,  and  have 
rare  games,  for  in  spite  of  his  black  clothes  he  was  as 
full  of  fun  as  a  kitten.  Freda  used  to  sit  with  Aline  in 
her  little  room,  silent  for  the  most  part;  but  one  day  I 
was  sitting  in  the  window-seat  reading,  when  Freda 
broke  silence  suddenly. 

"  I  have  been  with  you  long  enough,  Aline.  It  is  time 
for  us  to  be  going,  Jacky  and  I.  You  have  been  good  to 
keep  us  so  long." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  said  Aline,  rather  shocked ;  "  where 
would  you  be  welcome,  if  not  in  your  own  home?  I 
suppose  you  cannot  stay  with  us  altogether,  as  we  would 
all  have  wished?  It  is  not  likely  you  would  be  con- 
tent?" 


62  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Freda,  with  a  curious,  unmirthful 
laugh,  "it  is  not  at  all  likely  I  should  be  content!" 

Aline  looked  hurt  a  little,  but  I  thought  Freda  could 
not  mean  to  be  so  unkind  as  the  words  seemed.  However, 
I  said  nothing;  probably  they  had  forgotten  my  presence. 
After  a  minute  or  two,  Aline  said: 

"  Of  course,  Sir  John  and  Lady  Hazeldine  will  want 
you  to  be  with  them — at  least  at  first?" 

"  I'm  not  going  to  the  Hazeldines',"  Freda  said,  shortly. 

"And  what  are  your  plans,  then,  dear?" 

"  Mrs.  Vincent,  who  was  so  good  to  my  Jim,  is  coming 
home  from  India.  She  wants  me  to  live  with  her.  Her 
husband  is  dead,  and  she  is  sadder  even  than  I  am,  for 
she  has  no  child." 

"That  will  be  a  nice  arrangement,"  said  Aline;  and  I, 
who  know  all  her  ways,  heard  a  ring  of  disappointment 
in  her  voice.  I  think  she  felt  that  Freda  was  going  to 
make  for  herself  a  life  in  which  we  had  no  part. 

"  You  will  set  up  a  sweet  little  house  together,  with  a 
garden  perhaps,"  she  said  after  a  minute  or  two,  "  and  a 
couple  of  little  maids,  and  perhaps  a  tiny  carriage  ?  You 
must  take  care  of  yourself,  for  you  don't  look  strong, 
Freda." 

"I  shall  be  all  right,"  said  Freda,  and  again  she 
laughed  in  that  odd  way.  "  Yes,  I  suppose  Mrs.  Vincent 
and  I  shall  be  very  comfortable  together." 

"  I  thank  God  every  day,  Freda,  that  you  and  your 
little  boy  are  well  provided  for.  You  will  not  always  be 
unhappy,  dear;  you  are  too  young.  There  is  much  to 


FREDA.  63 

make  you  glad  yet  in  this  world,  though  it  has  pleased 
God  to  take  your  dear  husband.  You  will  try  and  pluck 
up  courage  after  you  have  left  us,  for  your  little  boy's 
sake?" 

Freda  turned  away  her  head  and  said  nothing. 

"  I  have  wanted  to  speak  to  you,  darling,"  said  Aline, 
very  gravely.  "  It  is  more  than  a  year  now  since  your 
great  trouble,  and  it  is  time  to  begin  to  live  again.  I 
know  that  life  can  never  be  the  same  for  you  again,  but, 
after  all,  Freda,  to  your  faith  and  mine,  is  not  death  only 
a  brief  absence  from  each  other  for  those  who  love 
truly?  And  though  your  absence  from  him  is  a  time  of 
sorrow  and  pain,  his  absence  from  you  is  the  happiness 
of  God.  Can't  you  bear  it,  knowing  all  is  well  with 
him?" 

Still  Freda  said  not  a  word. 

"Then  his  little  child — the  little  one  mustn't  be  robbed 
of  the  joy  of  life  that  is  a  child's  inheritance.  When  you 
have  gone  back  to  London,  darling,  don't  give  yourself 
up  to  sadness.  Make  the  sacrifice  of  your  grief  for  the 
child's  sake,  and  God  will  surely  bless  it.  Don't  stay  at 
home  and  fret.  Go  into  society,  where  many  people 
will  want  you.  Go  about  freely,  and  gather  any  bright- 
ness you  can  from  life.  Happily,  you  are  not  poor. 
Even  I  can  see  that  it  would  be  harder  to  escape  from 
grief  if  one  were  very  poor." 

"Yes,"  said  Freda,  facing  her  for  the  first  time,  and 
with  the  oddest  expression,  "it  would  be  harder  if  one 
were  very  poor." 


64  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

She  spoke  with  a  kind  of  bitter  amusement.  Then 
Aline  went  over  and  kissed  her. 

"  You  won't  think  I  am  making  little  of  your  grief, 
you  poor  soul?" 

"  I  could  never  be  so  unjust  to  you,  Aline." 

"There  will  be  always  Jim's  mother  to  take  care  of 
you  and  love  you,  as  well  as  your  Mra  Vincent.  You 
and  the  child  will  be  a  good  deal  with  Lady  Hazeldine, 
I  am  sure?" 

She  spoke  wistfully.  I  guessed  that  she  was  thinking 
Freda  too  young  and  too  pretty  to  be  launched  in  London 
society  alone. 

Freda's  face  became  suddenly  hard. 

"I  shall  see  very  little  of  Lady  Hazeldine,  Aline. 
Perhaps  I  shall  not  need  to  say  more  when  I  tell  you 
that  she  suggested  to  me  that  I  should  give  up  my  boy 
to  her." 

Aline  turned  red  and  pale. 

"Give  up  Jacky!"  she  said,  incredulously. 

"  Yes,  she  had  the  insolence.  But  I  will  say  no  more. 
I  did  not  mean  to  tell  you,  for  she  is  Jim's  mother;  and 
now  we  will  never  talk  about  it  again." 

Aline  looked  at  her  doubtfully.  She  did  not  know 
whether  to  speak  or  not;  but  just  then  Jacky  burst 
turbulently  into  the  room,  carrying  a  very  large  kite. 
He  was  crying  out  in  his  childish  tongue,  which  no  one 
but  his  mother  seemed  to  thoroughly  understand,  that 
Uncle  Hugh  was  going  to  "  fy  "  it  for  him. 

Freda  caught  him  up  suddenly  to  her  breast,  and  held 


FREDA.  65 

him  so  a  moment.  A  red  spot  came  into  each  cheek, 
and  I  guessed  what  she  was  thinking  of.  At  least  that 
horrid  Lady  Hazeldine  met  her  deserts  when  she  dared 
to  make  such  a  proposal  to  Freda;  that  was  a  comforting 
thing  to  think  upon. 


(M  438) 


CHAPTER    VI. 

"HOW  OFT  HAS  THE  BANSHEE  CRIED?" 

NOW,  I  have  been  going  back  a  good  long  way,  so 
that  I  might  make  it  clearly  understood  what  we 
Brandons  have  been  doing,  and,  with  a  long  family  like 
ours,  it  takes  time  to  pick  up  the  threads  of  all  the 
histories. 

The  years  have  passed  quietly  since  then,  and  brought 
few  changes  except  in  our  ages.  We  have  never  seen 
Freda  since,  though  she  writes  long  letters  to  Aline  full 
of  the  old  affection.  She  has  never  come  to  us,  nor 
asked  any  of  us  to  go  to  her,  and  we  have  almost  given 
up  thinking  that  she  will  ever  accept  Aline's  tenderly- 
worded  invitations,  or  that  any  of  us  will  ever  share  the 
pleasures  of  her  London  life.  Not  that  she  writes  very 
often  from  London.  She  seems  to  be  usually  at  one 
country-house  or  another,  and  sometimes  great  names 
are  mentioned  in  her  letters,  names  of  men  we  have 
heard  of  and  would  dearly  like  to  see. 

Her  permanent  address  is  Magnolia  Cottage,  Grove 
Avenue,  Parson's  Green,  which,  we  think,  sounds  pretty 
and  countrified.  Aline  always  says  that  she  is  so  pleased 


"HOW   OFT   HAS   THE   BANSHEE   CKIED?"  67 

that  Mrs.  Vincent  and  Freda  had  the  good  sense  to  settle 
in  a  country  place  rather  than  in  Belgravia  or  Mayfair, 
or  even  Kensington,  which  she  has  heard  are  stuffy. 
Freda's  home  must  be,  she  thinks,  in  some  outlying 
village  or  other,  though  within  reach  of  London.  We 
imagine  it  a  quiet  place  with  a  church  and  a  little  bit  of 
common,  and  the  houses  of  a  few  gentlefolk,  standing 
round  amid  their  hollies  and  laurels.  It  must  be  so  good 
for  Jacky,  who  does  not  seem  to  go  with  Freda  to  the 
country-houses,  to  live  among  rural  surroundings  rather 
than  in  the  dust  and  smoke  of  the  great  city. 

One  event  of  the  years  has  been  Pierce's  quarrel  with 
Mr.  Desmond,  though  they  had  seemed,  from  the  letters 
Pierce  wrote  during  their  first  years  together,  to  be 
almost  like  father  and  son,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  better 
to  say,  like  an  elder  and  younger  brother  who  dearly 
loved  each  other. 

Pierce's  letters  in  the  old  days  were  full  of  Mr. 
Desmond,  for  whom  he  seemed  to  have  a  kind  of  hero- 
worship.  Then,  without  warning,  we  heard  that  they 
had  quarrelled,  and  that  Pierce  had  left  Mr.  Desmond 
and  gone  farther  up  country.  We  never  heard  what  the 
quarrel  was  about.  Pierce  merely  wrote  to  Aline  that 
the  thing  was  so;  though  behind  the  quiet  of  his  letter 
there  was  evidently  a  cold  anger  against  his  former 
friend. 

Then  Mr.  Desmond  wrote  to  Aline — a  letter  that  I,  for 
one,  liked,  it  was  so  gentle  and  deprecatory.  He  seemed 
to  feel  that  Aline  had  trusted  him  with  Pierce,  and  that 


68  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

he  had  failed  to  keep  his  trust,  but  not  through  any 
fault  of  his  own.  He,  too,  gave  no  explanation  of  the 
quarrel,  but  only  said  something  about  young  blood 
being  hot,  and  his  hope  that  presently  the  boy  would 
cool  down  and  recognize  his  real  friends,  and  come  back 
to  him. 

This  letter  Aline  never  answered.  Of  course  she  stood 
by  Pierce,  and  thought  Mr.  Desmond  must  have  been  in 
the  wrong.  But  though  she  carried  it  off  so  bravely, 
because  her  pride  and  love  were  up  in  arms,  afterwards 
she  fretted  about  Pierce.  You  see  our  boys  have  been 
such  home-keeping  boys  that  we  are  afraid,  knowing 
that  one  is  out  in  the  wide  world. 

Pierce  writes  to  Aline,  of  course,  but  tells  her  little 
about  himself,  and  the  letters  come  at  longer  intervals. 
There  is  never  a  word  about  the  fortune  he  was  to  have 
made,  and  since  those  early  years  when  he  was  with  Mr. 
Desmond  he  sends  home  no  money,  though  he  must 
know  how  poor  we  are,  and  becoming  poorer  every  year. 
I  wonder  how  much  longer  we  will  be  able  to  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door,  and  Sir  Rupert  De  Lacy  out  of 
Brandon. 

Oh,  by  the  way,  I  must  mention  that  Sir  Rupert  has 
taken  to  sending  us  at  intervals  proposals  for  the 
purchase  of  the  old  place!  In  the  beginning  Aline  used 
to  open  these,  and  then  fling  them  indignantly  into  the 
fire;  but  with  the  more  recent  ones  she  has  simply  re- 
addressed  them  and  sent  them  back  unopened.  I  suppose 
the  grim  old  wolf  up  there  in  Castle  Angry  just  chuckles 


"HOW   OFT   HAS   THE   BANSHEE   CRIED?"  69 

when  his  epistles  come  back  to  him,  knowing  he  can 
bide  his  time. 

They  say  he  drinks  a  great  deal  more  than  of  old;  but 
for  the  matter  of  that,  no  one  can  know,  for  he  and 
Gaskin  are  the  only  two  creatures  inside  Castle  Angry. 
The  place  grows  wickeder  and  grayer  up  there  in  its  gash 
in  the  mountain,  as  legends  and  stories  of  its  master's 
doings  gather  round  it.  I  don't  know  if  I  said  before 
that  it  is  built  after  the  manner  of  a  fortified  house, 
with  a  gateway  under  two  turrets,  and  a  moat  drawn 
round  about  it.  I  have  seen  it  from  far  off,  and  have 
thought  its  aspect  had  something  sinister  and  frightful 
about  it.  The  gates  are  locked  and  bolted,  facing  the 
bridge  over  the  moat  that  has  taken  the  place  of  what 
was  once,  no  doubt,  a  drawbridge.  The  boys,  who  have 
ventured  near,  tell  me  that  the  moat  is  covered  with 
green  slime  and  full  of  unwholesome  things,  while  the 
grassy  space  about  is  sodden,  and  overgrown  with  weird 
fungi  of  brilliant  blue  and  scarlet.  That  is,  no  doubt, 
because  of  the  exceeding  damp  of  the  place,  for  around 
and  above  it  is  bog,  and  the  sun  always  seems  to  pass 
over  that  gash  in  Angry  Mountain,  as  if  there  were 
something  there  which  it  hated. 

The  boys  are  very  curious  about  what  lies  beyond  the 
moat  and  the  barred  gate.  I  have  implored  them  not  to 
venture  near  again,  for  if  Sir  Rupert  caught  sight  of 
them,  or  Gaskin,  who  is  a  worse  man,  either  might  loose 
the  bloodhounds,  and  then  say  afterwards  that  it  was 
none  of  their  doing. 


70  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

Poor  boys!  they  are  tall  young  striplings  now;  so 
handsome  and  distinguished  for  all  their  shabby  clothes, 
made  by  Hugh  Reilly,  the  tailor  in  Brandon  village.  It 
is  hard  that  we  could  give  them  no  proper  education, 
and  that  they  must  be  condemned  indefinitely  to  do 
nothing  except  shoot  rabbits  on  Brandon  hill  and  fish 
in  Brandon  river.  It  is  enough,  as  I  say,  to  make  good 
boys  into  worthless  men. 

Aline  feels  badly  about  it,  I  know.  If  there  were  but 
another  buyer  for  Brandon — anyone  except  Sir  Rupert — 
we  would,  I  think,  let  it  go,  dear  to  us  as  it  is.  But  it 
is  not  the  place  only,  it  is  the  poor  people  who  depend  on 
us,  and  who  are  miserably  poor,  if  we  are  miserably  poor. 
Sir  Rupert  would  show  them  scant  mercy,  we  know. 
He  has  cleared  Angry  long  ago  of  the  few  poor  creatures 
who  clung  to  it,  despite  its  unkindliness.  The  mountain 
sheep  wander  now  where  once  there  were  hearth-fires. 

"Let  him  keep  Angry,"  I  say,  "he  shall  not  have 
Brandon." 

Curiously  enough,  I  could  bear  better  that  he  should 
have  the  house  and  Aline's  rose-garden,  and  the  park  and 
the  river,  and  the  old  abbey  even,  than  Brandon  Moun- 
tain, Brandon  and  Angry  are  twin  mountains;  but 
there  was  a  good  fairy  by  the  cradle  of  one,  and  a  wicked 
fairy  by  the  other.  Blue,  benign,  smiling  Brandon 
Mountain  has  watched  over  our  race.  Must  he  pass  to 
the  race  of  an  enemy?  Shall  he,  and  the  few  little 
white  cottages  clustered  about  his  feet,  come  under  the 
blight  that  is  upon  Angry?  No,  a  thousand  times,  no! 


"HOW  OFT  HAS   THE   BANSHEE   CRIED?"  71 

The  boys  are  not  so  ignorant,  however,  as  might  be 
supposed.  Mr.  Benson,  whether  for  love  of  Aline,  or 
because,  as  he  himself  says,  he  would  not  have  his  classics 
rust,  has  been  their  unpaid  tutor,  and  I  am  sure  they 
are  really  far  better  educated  than  most  boys  of  their 
age,  even  if  their  learning  be  a  bit  old-fashioned.  Will 
they  ever  find  their  opportunities,  I  wonder?  I  remem- 
ber when  we  used  to  hope  that  Mr.  Desmond,  having  set 
Pierce's  feet  on  a  golden  road,  would  perhaps  help  Hugh, 
who  has  never  forgotten  his  childish  admiration  for  the 
man.  But  all  that  has  come  to  nothing.  Pierce  was  the 
raven  we  sent  out  of  our  ark  in  search  of  good  tidings; 
but  he  came  not  back. 

Aline  has  grown  older  almost  by  years  in  the  months 
that  have  elapsed  since  Pierce  and  Mr.  Desmond  parted. 
I  have  seen  her  come  down  in  the  morning  worn  and 
haggard,  and  have  guessed  that  she  has  either  spent  a 
great  part  of  the  night  in  prayer  for  her  beloved,  or  else 
she  has  slept  ill,  and  been  troubled  in  her  dreams  about 
him. 

I  think  she  fears  that  things  are  not  well  with  him, 
and  I  know  that  she  has  implored  him  in  vain  to  come 
home.  His  letters  bring  her  at  once  joy  and  disappoint- 
ment. In  every  one,  I  think,  she  hopes  that  he  will  say 
he  is  coming  back.  She  herself,  with  her  own  hands, 
still  keeps  his  room  swept  and  garnished,  and  the  bed- 
clothes ever  ready  aired,  as  though  at  any  hour  of  the 
day  or  night  a  wanderer  might  return. 

Aline's  little  turret  faces  the  great  avenue  of  Brandon. 


72  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

Lately,  I  have  noticed  that  at  any  hour  of  the  night  I 
might  waken,  her  light  was  burning;  but  only  yesterday 
Oona  told  me  that  a  lamp  burns  all  night  in  the  uncur- 
tained window.  I  am  sure  that  Aline's  heart  watches 
awake  for  Pierce,  even  when  her  body  is  sleeping.  But 
lest  he  should  come  suddenly  in  the  dark  hours,  she  sets 
the  light  there  like  a  star  to  draw  him  home.  Who 
knows  through  what  mirk  and  what  distance  it  may  find 
him  at  last? 

"  Oh,  Oona,  dear,"  I  cried  to  our  old  nurse  when  she 
had  told  me  of  the  light,  "  I  wish  he  would  come  back ! 
It  troubles  me  to  see  the  hope  and  the  disappointment 
that  are  always  following  each  other  in  Aline's  face.  It 
is  wearing  her  out." 

"Now,  look  here,  Miss  Hilda  dear,"  the  old  woman 
said,  putting  a  comfortable  arm  about  me,  "'tis  my 
opinion  that  Master  Pierce  '11  never  come  home  unless  he 
brings  the  riches,  my  dear.  He  knows  what  was  ex- 
pected of  him,  and  he's  proud,  terrible  proud,  as  becomes 
a  Brandon.  No,  he'll  never  come,  except  with  the  gold 
in  his  hand,  or  the  death  in  his  face;  and  if  he  knew  he 
was  to  be  taken,  I  don't  think  he  could  stay  away  from 
the  sister  that's  been  mother  and  sweetheart  both  to 
him." 

"  Oona,  Oona,"  cried  I,  "you're  talking  horribly!  What 
has  death  to  do  with  Pierce,  who  was  always  so  strong 
and  well?  I  wouldn't  have  you  say  such  a  thing  to 
Aline  for  worlds." 

"No,  nor  I  wouldn't,  my  pretty;  only  to  you  that  has 


"HOW   OFT   HAS   THE   BANSHEE   CRIED?"  73 

the  wise  head  and  the  still  tongue.  But  I  see  the  trouble 
coming,  and  if  I  don't  halve  it,  my  old  heart  will  break." 

She  looked  at  me  curiously,  still  keeping  me  pressed 
closely  to  her,  and  her  face  had  grown  indeed  full  of 
trouble. 

"Do  ye  sleep  very  sound  o'  nights,  love?"  she  asked 
presently. 

"  Pretty  well,  Oona,  unless  when  the  wind  crying  in 
the  corridors  keeps  me  awake." 

"  There's  more  cries  there  nor  the  wind." 

"Oh,  Oona,  what  do  you  mean?  What  superstition 
have  you  got  into  your  head  now?" 

"No  superstition  at  all,  then,"  said  Oona,  a  little 
offended;  "and  perhaps  I'd  better  have  kept  my  tongue 
to  myself." 

"Perhaps  you  had,  Oona;  but  since  you  didn't,  you 
may  as  well  go  on.  I  suppose  you  think  you've  heard 
the  banshee?" 

The  old  woman  nodded  her  head  solemnly. 

"  There  was  no  thinking  about  it,  dearie.  She's  cried 
the  last  three  nights,  and  grateful  I  am  that  Miss  Aline 
slept  sound  and  didn't  hear  her." 

"  If  Miss  Aline  heard  any  crying,  she  would  know  it 
was  the  wind.  Her  trust  is  all  in  God,  and  she  knows 
that  He  keeps  the  things  of  life  and  death  in  His  own 
hands,  and  that  His  love  is  all  about  her.  She  would 
tell  you  there  was  no  such  thing  as  the  banshee." 

"  She  would  not,  Miss  Hilda,  and  I  wonder  at  you  to 
say  the  like.  No  Brandon  should  say  it.  'Tis  just  be- 


74  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

cause  ye  are  Brandons,  the  finest,  purest,  ould  blood  alive^ 
that  she  cries  for  ye." 

Oona  went  off  visibly  indignant,  and  left  me  vaguely 
troubled.  Though  I  had  spoken  so  boldly,  I  fear  it  is 
not  in  Brandon  blood  quite  to  disbelieve  in  the  banshee. 
And  would  it  not  be  to  deprive  our  ancient  race  of  one  of 
the  proudest  of  its  appanages  ?  We  have  lost  so  much 
that  we  may  well  keep  this  shadowy  retainer  of  ours. 

After  all,  I  am  not  surprised  at  Oona.  It  is  all  very 
well  in  the  broad  daylight  to  deny  the  banshee,  but  it  is 
different  at  night  when  the  lights  are  out,  and  one  is 
alone,  and  starts  from  one's  pillow  to  hear  the  wind,  or 
something,  crying  through  the  old  half -ruined  house. 

This  morning  put  it  out  of  my  mind.  For  the  boys 
had  been  wild-duck  shooting  before  it  was  daybreak, 
and  had  heard  a  bit  of  news  from  their  crony,  Jim 
Hagarty,  with  which  to  regale  the  breakfast- table.  News 
is  scarce  with  us,  I  needn't  say;  and,  like  all  country 
people,  we  dearly  love  to  hear  of  our  neighbours. 

"Jim  says  Sir  Rupert's  grandson  has  come  to  visit 
him.  He  arrived  on  Saturday,  and  there  was  no  one  to 
meet  him  at  the  station,  and  he  had  to  have  out  O'Haire's 
fly  to  carry  his  portmanteau  and  things  over  to  Angry." 

"  And  the  next  day  a  groom  arrived  with  a  fine  horse, 
and  asked  his  way  to  Castle  Angry.  But  Jim  says  he 
went  away  by  the  train  the  same  evening.  I  suppose 
there  was  no  place  for  him  at  Angry,"  adds  Donald, 
taking  up  the  tale. 

Aline's  kind  face  took  on  a  look  of  concern. 


"HOW  OFT  HAS  THE  BANSHEE   CRIED?"  75 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  true,"  she  said.  "  Castle  Angry  is  no 
place  for  a  boy." 

"Oh,  it  is  true  enough!"  the  boys  cried  together,  "for 
Tom  O'Haire  read  the  name  on  the  luggage,  and  it  was 
'  Harry  De  Lacy '.  And  he  says  that  Gaskin  came  out 
and  took  in  the  things,  and  wouldn't  let  Tom  drive  in- 
side the  courtyard,  but  Tom  heard  the  dogs  howling  and 
yelping,  and  someone  shouting  at  them,  whom  he  took 
to  be  Sir  Rupert.  So  he  says  that  he  wasn't  sorry  to 
drive  away  like  mad  as  soon  as  he'd  set  down  his  pas- 
senger, fearing  they'd  take  it  into  their  heads  to  loose 
the  dogs." 

"Poor  boy!"  says  Aline  regretfully.  "He  cannot  be 
more  than  twenty-one.  Why  has  he  come  to  such  a 
place  ? " 

"  Possibly  Sir  Rupert  has  made  him,"  I  suggested.  "  It 
would  be  like  one  of  his  grim  jokes  to  introduce  the  heir 
to  his  property.  He  is  the  heir,  isn't  he?" 

"  Yes,  Angry  is  entailed  right  enough." 

"  Probably  Sir  Rupert's  grandson  will  be  able  to  hold 
his  own  even  with  Sir  Rupert,"  I  said;  but  Aline  shook 
her  head. 

"  His  father  never  could  hold  his  own,  and  Oona  will 
tell  you  that  his  mother  was  fair  and  gentle  and  delicate. 
It  is  cruel  of  Sir  Rupert  to  bring  him  here,  having  left 
him  all  his  years  with  his  English  grandfather." 

"Is  he  so  different?"  asked  Esther,  who  had  been 
listening  with  interest. 

"  I  have  heard  that  he  is  a  gentle  old  man,  very  learned 


76  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

and  very  pious.  His  rectory  is  in  Warwickshire,  in  beau- 
tiful English  pastoral  country.  This  boy  must  have 
had  a  tenderly-nurtured  youth." 

"By  Jove!"  muttered  Hugh,  "and  think  of  the  poor 
beggar  coming  to  Angry!" 

"  He  can't  have  been  prepared  either,"  said  Donald, 
"  or  he'd  never  have  brought  all  those  traps  with  him — 
gun-cases  and  fishing-tackle  and  tennis-rackets  and  no 
end  of  things.  By  Jove,  much  use  he'll  find  for  them  at 
Angry!" 

"  We  must  only  hope  that  his  visit  will  be  a  short  one," 
said  Aline,  with  one  of  her  gentle  sighs. 

I  am  sure  this  strange  boy  interests  her  because  she 
sees  in  every  boy  something  of  Pierce,  something,  too,  of 
Hugh  and  Donald.  Ah !  well,  we  Brandons,  despite  short 
commons  and  no  money,  have  had  as  happy  a  childhood 
as  children  ever  had.  I  know  Mother  left  us  to  Aline, 
and  well  has  Aline  kept  trust  with  her.  She  will  not 
need  to  look  away  when  they  meet  one  day  in  heaven. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A   TRUE   WORD    SPOKEN   IN   JEST. 

TO-DAY  Esther  and  I  were  sitting  with  Aline  in  her 
room.  It  was  bitterly  cold,  though  fine  and  sunny. 
I  should  have  liked  to  be  out  with  the  twins,  whom  I 
could  see  in  the  garden  below  tramping  up  and  down 
steadily,  hand  in  hand.  They  are  growing  up  as  wild 
and  shy  as  a  little  pair  of  rabbits,  and  they  are  quite 
safe  to  keep  to  the  gardens  once  Aline  has  told  them 
there  was  a  fear  of  their  meeting  the  hunt  if  they  went 
out  to  the  park  or  the  woods.  They  fear  nothing  except 
the  eyes  of  strangers.  It  makes  us  laugh  to  know  that 
they  who  would  face  Lord  Aranmore's  tallest  stag,  or  the 
little  wild,  horned,  mountain  cattle,  will  turn  round  and 
run,  still  hand  in  hand,  if  they  should  happen  to  see  a 
well-dressed  stranger  approaching  them. 

I  had  promised  to  help  Aline  with  some  baby-clothes 
she  was  making  for  poor  Mary  Kennedy,  whose  husband 
was  killed  by  a  falling  tree  in  the  summer,  and  whose 
first  baby  was  born  the  other  day,  else  I  too  should  have 
been  out-of-doors,  though  I  am  not  brisk  in  getting  about; 
and  Esther,  who  takes  care  that  I  am  never  left  behind, 


78  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

nor  made  to  feel  a  drag  on  the  pleasure  of  the  others,  would 
have  been  with  me. 

The  things  we  are  sewing  at  are  made  out  of  clothes 
we  ourselves  had  when  we  were  little.  They  are  fine, 
dainty  little  garments,  and  smell  sweetly  of  lavender.  It 
almost  breaks  Oona's  heart  that  Aline  will  use  them  for 
the  children  of  the  poor.  She  says  that  coarse  stuffs 
would  be  far  better,  and  perhaps  she  is  right,  but  we 
have  no  money  to  purchase  the  coarse  stuffs  if  we  would. 
Oona  never  argues  with  Aline  about  it,  but  gives  up  the 
keys  of  the  drawers  that  contain  the  treasures,  without 
words  indeed,  but  with  sighs  as  from  a  breaking  heart 
Aline,  for  all  her  gentleness,  makes  even  Oona  feel  that 
she  is  mistress. 

Aline  has  a  curious  love  and  tenderness  for  little  babies, 
and  she  would  not  feel  the  finest  stuffs  in  the  world  too 
good  for  their  little  tender  bodies.  I  have  seen  her  nursing 
them  with  an  expression  half-divine.  I  am  not  sure  that 
she  does  not  see  in  every  one  of  them  the  little  Baby  of 
Bethlehem,  and  that  they  are  not  the  more  precious  for 
being  born,  like  Him,  in  poverty.  Then  she  is  veriest 
woman.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  Aline  growing  old 
unmarried.  But  that  is  one  of  the  secret  thoughts  I  keep 
to  myself. 

Suddenly  my  eyes,  that  had  been  straying  from  my 
seam,  caught  sight  of  a  gleam  of  scarlet  in  the  distant 
coppice.  Another  and  another,  and  then  I  jumped  to  my 
feet  and  limped  to  the  window.  There  were  the  hounds 
stretching  in  a  long  line  away  to  Larry's  Spinney,  and 


A  TRUE   WORD   SPOKEN    IN   JEST.  79 

hard  on  their  heels  went  half  a  dozen  scarlet  coats, 
shadowed  with  here  and  there  a  blue  habit.  I  cried  out, 
"The  hunt,  the  hunt,  Esther!  Oh,  come  and  see!" 

Aline  looked  with  benign  amusement  at  our  excite- 
ment. 

"Run  out,  children,"  she  said;  "you  will  see  better 
from  the  summer-house  in  the  rose-garden.  Don't  let 
the  twins  tumble  out  of  the  window,  and  go  easily,  Hilda 
dear;  there  will  be  plenty  of  time,  for  the  river  will  turn 
them." 

We  went  out  rejoicing.  The  summer-house  is  in  two 
stories,  a  wooden  structure  with  seats,  and  little  windows 
of  coloured  glass,  opening  inwards,  that  may  be  shut 
against  the  weather.  We  found  the  twins  already  in 
possession  of  the  upper  window,  but,  taking  the  privileges 
of  elder  sisters,  we  packed  them  below,  where  they  went 
rather  grumblingly. 

Yes,  the  hunt  had  turned,  and  was  coming  back  our 
way.  It  would  pass  quite  close  to  us,  and  no  one  would 
notice  us,  for  their  excitement  would  be  too  absorbing. 

"  Why,  there  are  the  boys,"  I  cried,  "  over  yonder  on 
the  branch  of  the  chestnut!  Poor  boys,  how  they  must 
want  to  follow!" 

Even  the  boys  did  not  see  us.  As  soon  as  the  hunt 
passed  they  would  go  pounding  away  across  country  to 
get  another  glimpse.  Ah!  there  was  Jack  Tobin  the 
huntsman,  and  Graves  the  whipper-in,  and,  well  in  front, 
Lord  Clandeboye  the  master,  and  his  pretty  daughter, 
and  following  came  a  rout  of  scarlet  and  black. 


80  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  Esther,"  whispered  I,  "  supposing  that  as  they  went 
by  one  should  look  up  and  fall  in  love  with  you,  and  that 
he  should  prove  to  be  Prince  Charming." 

"  Why  not  with  you,  Hilda?"  she  said,  with  one  of  her 
rich  blushea 

"What  have  I  to  do  with  love  or  lovers?"  I  asked; 
and  it  was  indeed  true  that  since  my  accident  I  had  con- 
sidered that  my  life  was  outside  the  romances  of  other 
girls. 

The  ground  slopes  under  the  thick  yew  hedge  of  the 
rose-garden,  so  that,  as  the  riders  came  pounding  along 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  we  had  them  well  in  view.  One 
was  riding  a  beautiful  bay  horse,  which  attracted  my 
attention  before  my  eyes  went  to  the  rider's  face.  When 
I  looked  at  him  I  gave  Esther's  arm  a  pinch. 

"There  goes  your  knight,  Esther,"  I  cried.  "Now,  if 
only  he  would  have  an  accident,  and  we  could  take  him 
in  and  nurse  him,  it  would  be  like  one  of  your  story- 
books. Let  us  will  him  to  fall  down — shall  we?" 

But  Esther  seemed  not  to  have  heard  me.  She  had 
drawn  back  suddenly  into  the  shadow  of  the  room.  The 
young  rider  had  caught  sight  of  us,  and  was  looking  up. 
For  the  moment  he  was  evidently  not  thinking  of  the 
hunt,  for  his  sideways  gaze  was  a  long,  direct  one.  Then 
I  saw  that  Esther  was  blushing  hotly  all  over  her  dark 
face,  and  her  eyes  had  sunk  under  her  long  soft  lashes. 

"I  am  afraid  he  heard  your  voice,  Hilda  dear,"  she 
murmured;  and  then  her  eyes  flashed  out  again  with 
sudden  horror  and  fear. 


A   TRUE   WORD   SPOKEN   IN   JEST.  81 

Startled,  I  looked  in  the  direction  of  her  glance.  There, 
where  the  young  rider  had  been  flashing  along  in  the 
run  downhill,  lay  the  horse  kicking  and  struggling,  and 
a  space  in  front  of  him  the  huddled-up  figure  of  his 
master. 

Some  of  the  other  hunters  were  off  their  horses,  and 
running  and  shouting,  but  nearest  of  all  were  our  two 
brothers,  who  in  a  second  of  time  had  reached  the  pros- 
trate man.  Then  a  group  of  men  hid  all  from  our  sight; 
but  in  a  second  or  two  we  saw  that  they  had  lifted  the 
young  man,  and  had  laid  him  on  a  space  of  sward. 

I  looked  round  at  Esther.  Her  eyes  were  wide  open, 
and  she  was  deadly  pale. 

"You're  not  going  to  faint?"  I  said. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  and  the  colour  came  back  to  her 
cheeks  and  lips.  "You  don't  think  he's  dead,  Hilda?" 

"  I  hope  not.  Dr.  Rivers  is  there,  fortunately.  Come 
and  we  will  see  what  has  happened.  Someone  will  tell  us." 

"Yes,"  said  Esther.  "Come  and  see.  Of  course  he 
must  be  taken  to  Brandon." 

"  Unless  he  is  near  his  own  home,"  I  suggested. 

Esther  looked  at  me  almost  angrily. 

"  He  must  be  taken  to  Brandon,"  she  said  again. 

She  went  out  with  an  air  that  might  have  been  Aline's 
own.  No  one  would  have  thought  that  she  was  the 
younger  sister,  as  I  humbly  followed  her.  She  went  up 
to  the  little  group  that  stood  about  the  fallen  man,  and 
though  everyone  turned  to  look  at  her,  she  did  not  seem 
to  notice  them. 

( M  436 )  F 


82  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  I  hope  he  is  not  very  much  hurt,  Dr.  Rivers,"  she  said. 
"  Of  course  you  will  carry  him  into  the  house  at  once." 

The  doctor  lifted  his  hat 

"  I'm  afraid  there's  a  concussion  of  the  brain — he  was 
flung  on  his  head — but  I  can't  examine  him  properly  here. 
Thank  you,  Miss  Brandon.  Of  course  the  best  thing 
would  be  to  get  him  indoors  at  once.  Your  brother  has 
kindly  offered  the  poor  fellow  the  hospitality  of  your 
house." 

Esther  turned  to  Hugh,  who  was  standing  by.  "  Run 
in  quickly,"  she  said,  "  and  tell  Aline  we  are  coming." 

Presently,  as  they  were  making  up  a  rough  litter  on 
which  to  carry  him,  Donald  came  to  my  side  and  whis- 
pered that  the  young  man  was  a  stranger  in  these  parts, 
and  that  no  one  seemed  to  know  where  he  had  dropped 
from.  Also  that  the  horse,  which  they  had  thought  must 
be  badly  injured,  had  done  nothing  worse  than  lame  him- 
self. He  had  stepped  in  a  rabbit-hole,  and  so  caused  the 
accident." 

"They  had  better  bring  in  the  poor  beast  too,"  he 
added.  "  There  are  no  lack  of  empty  stalls,  and  I  daresay 
we  can  find  him  a  bit  of  bedding." 

In  a  few  minutes  they  were  carrying  the  young  fellow 
towards  the  house,  the  horse  following  with  a  hanging 
head,  as  if  he  were  conscious  that  his  master  was  hurt, 
and  felt  himself  in  some  degree  to  blame.  He  was  a  beauti- 
ful beast,  and  I  was  so  glad  he  was  not  hurt,  for  all  dumb 
animals  are  very  near  my  heart,  that  I  felt  irrationally 
hopeful  about  his  master's  case  also. 


A  TRUE  WORD   SPOKEN   IN   JEST.  83 

However,  Dr.  Rivers  seemed  to  think  the  business  very 
serious.  There  was  concussion,  he  found,  and  he  feared 
internal  injuries  as  well,  so  that  the  young  man  might  lie 
unconscious  and  on  our  hands  for  some  time. 

"  It  is  too  bad,  Miss  Brandon,"  he  said  to  Aline,  "  that 
you  should  have  all  this  trouble  thrust  upon  you.  He 
ought  really  to  have  a  nurse." 

He  hesitated  and  looked  at  her.     Aline  smiled  faintly. 

"Oona,  our  old  nurse,  has  considerable  experience  in 
sick  nursing,"  she  said,  "  and,  as  you  see,  she  will  have 
several  lieutenants." 

The  doctor  nodded  approvingly. 

"I  should  not  dare  to  order  his  removal,  even  if  we 
knew  that  he  had  friends  in  the  neighbourhood." 

"  Pray  do  not  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Aline  hastily. 
"  The  fact  that  he  met  with  his  accident  near  our  doors  is 
his  claim  upon  us.  Heaven  forbid  that  we  should  grudge 
him  anything  we  can  do!" 

I  saw  Dr.  Rivers,  who  is  a  bachelor,  look  at  her  with  a 
very  distinct  glance  of  admiration. 

"  It  is  curious  that  no  one  seems  to  know  him,"  he  said, 
looking  down  at  the  unconscious  face  of  his  patient.  "Of 
course,  he  may  have  ridden  some  distance  to  the  meet, 
yet  his  horse  seemed  fresh,  and  was  well  in  front  all  the 
time." 

"  He  must  be  the  stranger  within  the  gates  till  he  can 
speak  for  himself,"  Aline  replied.  "  Only,  I  pray  that  no 
one  may  be  in  tortures  of  suspense  about  his  absence." 

Dr.  Rivers  had  already  turned  out  the  young  fellow's 


84  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

pockets,  in  a  vain  search  for  a  clue  to  his  identity.  A 
silver  cigar-case  with  an  intricate  monogram,  a  handker- 
chief with  the  same  lettering,  a  match-box,  a  pair  of 
gloves;  these  told  us  nothing.  We  must  wait  for  time 
to  clear  up  the  mystery. 

After  Dr.  Rivers  had  gone,  and  Oona  was  installed  in 
the  sick-room,  I  crept  in  softly  to  where  she  sat  beside  the 
fire,  sewing  and  crooning  to  herself,  just  as  I  remember 
her  when  I  was  three  years  old. 

I  came  in  on  tiptoe,  but  Oona  smiled  at  me  reassuringly. 

"You  needn't  be  afraid,  Miss  Hilda,  child.  He's  nearly 
as  sound  off  as  if  he  were  dead.  It  would  take  nearly  as 
much  to  waken  him." 

I  looked  at  the  face  in  the  shadow  of  the  chintz  cur- 
tains. It  was  a  fair,  boyish  face,  with  something  very 
sweet  and  captivating  about  it,  even  through  its  rigid 
pallor.  A  small  golden  moustache  hid  the  quiet  mouth, 
and  the  hair  was  golden.  The  lids  were  only  half-closed 
over  the  eyes,  so  that  I  was  startled  a  minute. 

"  He  looks  as  if  he  were  dead,  Oona,"  I  cried,  starting 
back. 

"He's  not  dead,  Miss  Hilda,  don't  you  be  afraid  of  that; 
and  what's  more,  he's  not  going  to  die." 

"He  is  very  handsome,"  I  said,  venturing  on  another 
glance. 

"He  is, — a  downright  pretty  young  gentleman,"  said 
Oona;  and  the  phrase  seemed  the  right  one.  His  was 
an  almost  feminine  charm  and  sweetness. 

Ever  since  the  accident  I  had  been  troubled  by  the 


A   TRUE   WORD   SPOKEN   IN    JEST.  85 

foolish  thing  I  had  been  saying  to  Esther  just  at  the 
moment  it  happened.  Of  course  it  was  only  a  jest,  and 
could  have  had  no  possible  effect;  a  silly  joke  couldn't 
have  made  the  bay  put  its  foot  in  a  rabbit-hole.  Still, 
I  felt  horribly  disquieted  about  it,  and  only  hoped 
that  Esther  had  not  heard  me,  as  she  certainly  had  not 
seemed  to. 

"  It  would  be  horrible,  Oona,"  said  I,  "  if  your  banshee 
had  been  crying  for  him." 

Oona  looked  at  me  almost  with  contempt. 

"  Tis  English  he  is,  by  the  cut  of  him,"  she  said.  "  I 
never  heard  tell  of  an  English  family  that  she  followed." 

Oona  shook  her  head  and  sighed,  and  I  knew  that  she 
was  thinking  the  mysterious  warning  betokened  death 
for  one  of  us.  It  made  me  feel  rather  creepy,  so  I  went 
out,  closing  the  door,  and  in  search  of  Esther. 

I  found  her  lying  down.  She  had  a  headache,  she  said, 
and  she  looked  flushed  and  ill  at  ease. 

"  Dear  old  Essie,"  I  said  as  I  patted  her  pillows,  "  the 
shock  of  seeing  the  accident  has  upset  you.  You  must 
try  and  sleep,  and  then  you  will  be  better." 

I  felt  a  little  lost  for  want  of  Esther's  company,  as  I 
stole  down  to  Aline's  room.  Finding  it  empty,  I  crept 
into  a  corner  by  the  fire  and  lost  my  sense  of  loneliness 
in  a  novel.  But  only  for  a  time,  for  it  wasn't  a  very 
convincing  novel,  and  the  thing  which  had  happened  to 
us  only  this  morning  was  much  more  interesting. 

Presently  my  novel  slipped  from  my  knee,  and  I  sat 
with  my  chin  propped  in  my  hands,  looking  into  the  heart 


86  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

of  the  cosy  driftwood  fire.  All  of  a  sudden  an  illumina- 
tion came  to  me.  Why,  the  boy  upstairs  was,  must  be, 
Sir  Rupert's  grandson.  How  amazing  that  nobody  should 
have  thought  of  it  but  me ! 

"This  makes  a  horribly  awkward  complication,"  I 
thought,  having  made  up  my  mind  on  the  first  matter. 
"  If  Aline  recognizes  the  probability  of  my  guess,  she  will 
think  it  her  duty  to  send  word  to  Sir  Rupert.  I  feel 
quite  sure  that  Sir  Rupert  is  wicked  and  determined 
enough  to  remove  the  young  fellow  at  the  risk  of  his 
life.  He  wouldn't  be  beholden  to  a  Brandon  for  any- 
thing. Then,  if  the  removal  didn't  kill  him,  the  tender 
mercies  of  Castle  Angry  would  be  sure  to  do  it." 

I  shuddered  to  think  of  the  poor  young  fellow  lying 
ill  at  Castle  Angry.  Why,  Sir  Rupert  or  James  Gaskin 
might  kill  him  in  one  of  their  orgies.  There  was  some- 
thing helpless  and  appealing  in  my  memory  of  the  quiet 
young  face  that  went  to  my  heart. 

"  I  shall  keep  my  counsel,"  I  said  aloud,  as  I  have  a 
habit  of  doing.  "  I  may  be  right  or  wrong,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  no  harm  can  lie  in  silence." 

So  not  even  to  Esther  did  I  whisper  my  suspicions; 
but  I  was  surprised  at  the  density  of  everybody  except 
myself.  Even  the  boys,  who  told  us  first  that  Sir  Rupert's 
grandson  had  come  home,  exhausted  their  conjectures 
about  the  stranger's  identity,  and  never  once  stumbled 
near  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   STRANGER   WITHIN   THE   GATE. 

THE  young  man  had  been  many  days  under  our  roof, 
and  we  knew  no  more  of  him  than  at  the  first;  yet 
the  mystery  but  deepened  our  interest  in  him.  A  hand- 
some, fashionably  dressed  young  man,  and  a  fine  bay  horse, 
do  not  disappear  out  of  the  world  every  day  with  not  a 
soul  apparently  to  seek  after  them,  or  inquire  of  their 
fate.  We  discussed  the  matter  at  every  meal.  We  were 
so  much  interested,  indeed,  that  we  kept  more  to  the 
house  than  of  old;  and  the  boys  had  pleasure  and  exer- 
cise enough  in  cantering  the  stranger's  horse  up  and 
down  the  long  avenue;  for  the  fine  spirited  brute  soon 
grew  hot-blooded  in  the  stable,  and  he  would  have 
kicked  the  crazy  stalls  to  pieces  if  his  spirits  had  not 
had  some  vent. 

One  or  other  of  us  was  always  stealing  in  on  tiptoe  to 
the  high,  light  room,  where  Oona  sat  sewing,  her  face 
looking  very  important  in  the  shadow  of  her  huge  frilled 
cap. 

"How  is  he  now,  Oona?"  we  would  ask,  and  Oona 
would  answer,  "  No  better  and  no  worse  " ;  and  then,  with 


88  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

a  glance  at  the  rigid  young  face  on  the  pillows,  we  would 
steal  out  again. 

But  the  third  day  I  found  Esther  sitting,  in  a  familial- 
attitude  of  hers,  on  the  rug  at  Oona's  feet,  with  an  open 
book  on  her  knee,  and  her  eyes  gazing  into  the  heart  of 
the  fire.  Esther  had  been  very  silent  while  we  gabbled 
about  the  young  stranger's  identity;  she  was  never  one 
to  talk  much.  Yet  I  could  see  that  she  listened  eagerly 
for  the  doctor's  verdict  every  morning  when  he  would 
come  tramping  down  to  Aline's  room  after  visiting  his 
patient.  She  did  not  seem  quite  the  old  Esther  in  those 
days.  She  had  an  absent  manner,  which  no  one  seemed 
to  notice  but  myself,  and  she  looked  a  little  pale,  and  had 
dark  rings  about  her  eyes,  as  if  she  did  not  sleep  well  at 
night. 

On  the  sixth  day  the  young  man  began  to  come  back 
to  life  again.  So  Esther  told  us  when  she  came  gliding 
into  her  place  at  the  breakfast-table.  She  had  spoken  to 
Oona  outside  the  door,  and  Oona  had  told  her.  She 
looked  glad  and  excited,  and  I  felt  that  pity  for  the 
young  stranger  had  been  troubling  her  of  late  more  than 
the  rest  of  us. 

Still,  even  when  the  young  man  was  conscious,  Dr. 
Rivers  enjoined  absolute  quiet.  We  were  not  to  trouble 
yet  about  people  who  might  be  sorrowing  for  his  absence. 
As  he  got  better  he  would  remember  of  himself,  and  let 
us  know. 

Aline  was  now  the  only  visitor  to  the  sick-room.  The 
sick  man  seemed  to  have  got  as  used  to  her  face  and 


THE   STRANGER  WITHIN   THE   GATE.  89 

Oona's  as  if  he  had  always  known  them.  Aline  told  us 
that  he  showed  pleasure  in  her  visits,  and  I  think  that, 
half  unknown  to  herself,  in  those  days  she  began  to  lay 
the  foundation  of  a  warm  affection  for  the  boy,  in  whose 
case  Pierce  might  have  been. 

At  last  he  was  well  enough  to  ask  her  to  write  a  letter 
for  him.  It  was  to  his  grandfather,  an  English  clergy- 
man, and  told  him  in  the  briefest  possible  way,  for  he 
was  not  equal  to  much  thought,  about  his  fall,  and  that 
he  was  steadily  recovering,  so  that  there  was  no  cause  for 
anxiety. 

Aline  came  downstairs  with  the  letter  in  her  hand,  and 
when  I  came  in  from  the  stables,  where  I  had  been  giving 
the  bay  an  apple,  I  found  her  standing  by  the  hall-table, 
gazing  at  the  envelope  with  a  puzzled  line  between  her 
eyes. 

"  Come  here,  Hilda,"  she  said,  "  and  tell  me  if  you  have 
any  associations  with  this  name." 

I  took  the  letter  from  her  hand.  It  was  addressed  to 
the  Rev.  Henry  Vane,  Wrixmundham  Rectory,  Warwick- 
shire. 

"No;  I'm  sure  I  haven't,"  I  replied.  "Never  heard  of 
a  Vane  before  in  my  life,  except  Cromwell's  Sir  Harry. 
Perhaps  you  are  thinking  of  him." 

"No;  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Aline,  putting  the  letter 
into  the  tattered  basket  which  served  us  for  post-bag. 
"  I  suppose  I  must  have  only  fancied  it,  but  I  certainly 
did  seem  to  have  heard  the  name  before." 

I   often   looked   towards  Angry  in   those  days,  and 


90  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

thought  how  hard-hearted  Sir  Rupert  must  be  never  to 
have  concerned  himself  about  his  grandson's  fate.  It 
was  probably  true  that,  as  people  said,  he  hated  the  boy, 
as  he  had  hated  his  mother  and  his  father,  though  the 
latter  was  his  own  flesh  and  blood.  Well,  I  was  glad 
that  in  his  weakness  and  need  the  poor  boy  was  in  Oona's 
motherly  hands,  rather  than  at  the  mercy  of  that  pair  of 
old  wretches  over  yonder.  I  had  him  on  my  conscience 
somehow  since  I  had  made  that  foolish  speech,  which  had 
hardly  left  my  mouth  before  the  accident  occurred. 

The  rest  of  the  household  seemed  to  think  that  the 
mystery  was  solved.  Our  visitor  was  an  Englishman, 
come  over  for  the  hunting  probably,  as  many  did  every 
year,  and  whose  headquarters  were  at  some  inn  or  other, 
and  that  was  all. 

Meanwhile  he  progressed  slowly,  but  quite  to  Dr. 
Rivers'  satisfaction.  Presently  he  was  able  to  come 
downstairs  for  longer  and  longer  intervals.  At  first  he 
leant  on  the  boys  as  he  made  the  journey,  but  after  a 
time  he  was  able  to  manage  with  my  stick  and  the  help 
of  the  banisters.  I  don't  think  any  of  us  ever  asked 
ourselves  when  he  would  be  well  enough  to  go,  though 
he  must  be  a  strain  On  our  resources.  He  looked  so 
gentle  and  so  young,  and  his  manner  was  so  grateful,  that 
we  all  grew  quite  fond  of  him.  And  yet  we  had  never 
heard  his  name.  The  omission  did  not  seem  to  strike 
him,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  any  of  us  to  ask  him. 

One  day  Esther  suggested  shyly  to  Aline  that  we  should 
read  to  our  guest  and  play  to  him,  to  relieve  the  tedium 


THE  STRANGER  WITHIN   THE   GATE.  91 

of  his  invalidism.  Aline  assented  heartily,  and  made  the 
suggestion  to  him  when  he  was  established  on  the  sofa 
for  the  afternoon. 

"  We  have  no  newspapers,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  except 
the  Lissycasey  Leader,  and  our  magazines  are  thirty  years 
old,  but  there  are  some  novels  and  poetry.  Or  if  you  do 
not  care  for  reading,  Esther  will  play  to  you,  but  the 
piano  has  not  been  tuned  for  years." 

He  lifted  up  his  eyes,  which  had  begun  to  smile  again, 
though  they  were  hollow. 

"  I  should  like  the  poetry  if  Miss  Hilda  or  Miss  Esther 
will  be  so  good  as  to  read  to  me." 

I  brought  down  my  old  Tennyson  and  selected  Maud, 
which  I  love  best  of  all  the  poems.  I  read  on  in  a  silence 
only  broken  by  the  crackling  of  the  logs  in  the  grate. 
Aline  had  left  us,  and  Esther  had  gone  over  to  the  fire, 
and  was  sitting  on  the  old  sheep-skin  rug,  with  her  arms 
leaning  on  a  chair,  propping  her  cheek.  Outside  there 
were  blue  skies  and  keen  frost,  and  the  room  with  its 
painted  wreaths  on  the  wall,  and  the  faded  old  brocade 
of  curtains  and  chair-covers,  looked  warm  and  pleasant. 

"  I  have  led  her  home,  my  love,  my  only  friend ; 
There  is  none  like  her,  none. 
And  never  yet  so  warmly  ran  my  blood, 
And  sweetly,  on  and  on, 
Calming  itself  to  the  long-wished-for  end, 
Full  to  the  banks,  close  on  the  promised  good. 

rt  None  like  her,  none. 

Just  now  the  dry-tongued  laurels'  pattering  talk 
Seemed  her  light  foot  along  the  garden  walk, 


92  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

And  shook  my  heart  to  think  she  comes  once  more ; 
But  even  then  I  heard  her  close  the  door ; 
The  gates  of  Heaven  are  closed  and  she  is  gone. 

"  There  is  none  like  her,  none, 
Nor  will  be  when  our  summers  have  deceased. 
O,  art  thou  sighing  for  Lebanon ; 
In  the  long  breeze  that  streams  to  thy  delicious  East, 
Sighing  for  Lebanon. 

Dark  cedar,  though  thy  limbs  have  here  increased 
Upon  a  pastoral  slope  as  fair, 
And  looking  to  the  South,  and  fed 
With  honeyed  rain  and  delicate  air, 
And  haunted  by  the  starry  head 
Of  her  whose  gentle  will  has  changed  my  fate, 
And  made  my  life  a  perfumed  altar-flame." 

When  I  had  read  so  far,  a  sense  of  something  electrical 
in  the  room  made  me  look  up  suddenly  from  the  page. 
The  invalid  had  lifted  himself  a  little  on  his  elbow,  and 
was  gazing  at  my  sister's  lovely  unconscious  face,  with 
such  a  curious  intentness  and  yearning  that  I  felt  a  shock 
of  surprise  and  consternation.  As  my  voice  ceased  he  fell 
back  on  his  pillow,  and  at  the  same  moment  Esther  turned 
slowly  like  one  waking. 

"Oh,  do  go  on,  Hilda,"  she  said;  "it  is  lovely!" 
I  read  on,  but  no  more  forgot  myself  in  the  poem. 
My  thoughts  were  perturbed.  Was  it  possible  that  my 
foolish  speech  the  other  day  could  come  true  ?  Was  there 
really  such  a  thing  as  love  at  first  sight?  And  if  the 
young  fellow  was  in  love  with  Esther,  and  if  she  should 
respond  to  him,  how  would  things  be?  The  hereditary 
enemy — why,  it  would  be  Romeo  and  Juliet  over  again. 


THE   STRANGER  WITHIN   THE   GATE.  93 

The  romance  of  it  fluttered  my  pulses  a  little,  but  I 
have  a  certain  measure  of  plain  common-sense,  which 
Esther  has  not,  where  it  is  a  question  of  romance.  I 
didn't  see  how  such  a  love  affair  could  end  happily,  for 
Sir  Rupert  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  keep  his 
grandson  from  marrying  a  Brandon,  and  no  doubt  the 
young  fellow  was  dependent  on  him  till  his  death. 

These  thoughts  came  between  me  and  the  page.  I 
knew  I  was  reading  badly,  for  the  invalid  sighed  once  or 
twice  uneasily,  and  even  Esther  turned  and  looked  at  me 
in  wonder.  At  last  I  went  over  and  put  the  book  into 
her  lap. 

"  Go  on,  Essie,"  said  I,  "  I  am  tired." 

I  wanted  to  go  and  tell  Aline  who  I  guessed  the  stranger 
to  be,  as  I  ought  to  have  done  at  first  when  I  suspected 
it. 

"  Do  you  know,  Aline,"  I  cried,  bursting  in  on  her  where 
she  was  sitting  with  a  huge  pile  of  mending  beside  her, 
"  I  believe  I've  guessed  who  our  visitor  is." 

"Indeed,  Hilda!     And  who  is  he?" 

"  Why,  Sir  Rupert's  grandson." 

Aline  dropped  her  piece  of  mending,  and  stared  at  me 
aghast. 

"Why  should  you  think  so,  Hilda?  He  hasn't  told 
you?"  " 

"  I've  been  putting  two  and  two  together,  and  I  think 
we  are  a  parcel  of  dunderheads  not  to  have  thought  of  it 
before.  Don't  you  remember  that  the  boys  told  us,  a 
couple  of  days  before  the  accident,  that  Sir  Rupert's 


94  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

grandson  had  come  home,  and  about  the  horse  following? 
Then  who  in  the  world  would  be  so  unnatural  as  to 
make  no  inquiries  after  the  boy  except  that  same  horrid 
old  Sir  Rupert?" 

"  You  are  probably  right,  Hilda  I  wonder  we  didn't 
think  of  it.  And  that,  of  course,  was  why  I  thought  I 
recognized  his  grandfather's  name.  Of  course  his  mother's 
name  was  Mary  Vane.  I  remember  now  to  have  heard 
it  from  our  own  dear  mother." 

"It  is  plain  enough  to  me,"  I  said.  "I  only  wonder 
we  didn't  think  of  it  all  along." 

"  Ah,  you  see  you  are  the  wise  Hilda !  But  it  wouldn't 
have  made  any  difference.  We  couldn't  have  let  him 
die  outside  our  walls  if  he  were  twenty  times  our  heredi- 
tary enemy." 

"  Which  he  hardly  is." 

"No,  poor  boy,"  said  Aline,  a  little  sorrowfully,  I 
thought.  "  He  surely  is  not.  Clearly,  he  knows  nothing 
about  the  feud  or  he  would  have  recognized  our  name 
as  soon  as  he  heard  it." 

"  If  he  knew,  I  don't  suppose  it  would  make  any  differ- 
ence," said  I;  "those  musty  old  hatreds  can't  go  on  for 
ever." 

"I  don't  believe  any  ever  existed,  except  in  Sir 
Rupert's  heart.  I  know  our  grandfather,  whom  he  had 
wronged  deeply,  forgave  him  fully,  and,  when  he  spoke 
of  him  in  his  latter  days,  wept,  I  have  heard,  because  at 
one  time  he  had  thought  of  him  like  a  brother,  and,  being 
the  good  man  he  was,  the  old  affection  had  come  back." 


THE  STRANGER  WITHIN   THE   GATE.  95 

"You  will  ask  him,  I  suppose,  if  we  are  not  right?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  shall  ask  him !  but  it  can  make  no  difference 
at  present.  Here  he  must  stay  till  he  is  fit  to  go,  and  I 
shall  make  that  plain  to  him." 

"But  afterwards?" 

"Afterwards?"  said  Aline,  looking  sad.  "I  fear  we 
shall  see  no  more  of  him.  By  the  way,  I  left  you  read- 
ing to  him." 

"Yes,  I  handed  over  the  reading  to  Esther  when  I 
felt  I  had  to  come  and  tell  you." 

"Better  go  back  now,  dear  Hilda,"  she  said  gently. 
"  Of  course  it  must  make  no  difference  in  our  treatment 
of  him  while  he  stays,  but  we  must  remember  that  when 
he  goes,  he  goes  finally." 

From  this  I  guessed  that  she,  too,  had  a  vague  uneasi- 
ness about  Esther. 

When  I  opened  the  door  of  the  room  and  went  in,  I 
saw  that  the  reading  had  evidently  been  over  for  some 
time.  Tennyson  lay  on  the  floor  unheeded,  and  the  two 
were  talking  like  old  friends.  The  boy  looked  flushed 
and  happy  and  a  little  shy.  Esther,  more  unconscious, 
was  listening  to  his  talk  at  her  ease,  but  evidently  much 
interested. 

"We  have  been  talking,  Miss  Hilda,"  said  the  boy. 
"  Your  sister  disclaimed  any  idea  of  reading  poetry  after 
you,  so  we  talked  instead;  at  least  I  talked,  all  about 
myself,  and  your  sister  listened." 

"  Essie  is  always  a  good  listener,"  said  I  absently. 

Presently  Aline  came  in  to  pay  the  invalid  her  usual 


96  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

afternoon  visit.  I  was  relieved  when,  a  minute  or  two 
afterwards,  Esther  went  out.  Somehow  I  wanted  to  tell 
her  first,  not  to  have  it  sprung  on  her  suddenly,  that  the 
young  stranger  was  one  we  must  not  permit  ourselves  to 
like. 

After  a  few  commonplace  phrases  had  been  spoken, 
Aline  said: 

"  By  the  way,  it  is  a  little  odd  that  we  don't  yet  know 
your  name.  It  hasn't  struck  you  that  we  have  no  name 
to  call  you  by?" 

The  young  fellow  blushed  and  laughed. 

"  By  Jove,  how  stupid  of  me !  It  never  struck  me  that 
all  your  goodness  was  shown  to  a  man  whose  name 
actually  you  were  in  ignorance  of.  I  am  Harry  De 
Lacy." 

"  Sir  Rupert  De  Lacy's  grandson?" 

"  Yes.  Do  you  know  him  ?  But  I  don't  suppose  you 
do.  He  is  like  an  ogre  shut  up  in  his  castle;  but  you 
will  know  of  him  by  repute.  He  was  rather  a  shock 
to  me,  Miss  Brandon,  for  my  dear  old  grandfather  in 
Warwickshire  had  not  at  all  prepared  me  for  him.  He 
is  rather  odd,  you  know." 

"Perhaps  your  English  grandfather  did  not  know," 
said  Aline  with  her  face  averted. 

"Perhaps  not.  I  know  they  haven't  met  for  years. 
I  always  understood  that  they  weren't  very  good  friends, 
but  my  English  grandfather  is  not  one  to  rub  it  in.  He 
probably  thought  that  Time  would  have  changed  Sir 
Rupert." 


THE   STRANGER  WITHIN   THE   GATE.  97 

"  Else  he  would  hardly  have  let  you  come." 

"There  was  no  question  of  letting.  He  would  have 
thought  it  my  duty.  Beyond  that,  I  think  he  could 
scarcely  bear  me  to  leave  him.  But  still  he  could  have 
had  no  idea  of  the  difference,"  said  the  lad  impulsively. 

"The  difference?" 

"  Between  what  I  had  been  used  to  and  what  I  was 
coming  to.  He  is  a  saint  if  ever  there  was  one.  I  have 
been  brought  up  there  from  babyhood,  in  an  atmosphere 
of  peace  and  love  for  God  and  man.  Within  these  four 
walls  I  have  never  heard  a  rough  word.  We  lived  not  in 
luxury,  indeed,  for  so  much  is  given  to  the  poor,  but  in 
refinement,  and  among  books  and  pictures,  and  all  beauti- 
ful things.  And  then  to  come  to  Castle  Angry — " 

He  broke  off  abruptly. 

"  Miss  Brandon,  I  am  talking  freely  to  you,  but  do  you 
think  my  grandfather — Sir  Rupert,  I  mean — is  mad?" 

Aline  did  not  answer  at  once.  Knowing,  as  we  do,  Sir 
Rupert's  wickedness,  she  found  it  difficult  to  speak  of  him 
to  his  heir,  who  apparently  knew  nothing.  At  last  she 
answered,  looking  down: 

"  Perhaps  he  is.     Only  God  knows." 

"I  found  the  place  so  filthy,"  he  went  on  excitedly; 
"why,  a  decent  kennel  would  be  sweeter  and  cleaner. 
The  floors  are  rotting,  the  plaster  falling  from  the  walls 
and  ceiling;  everything  is  going  to  pieces  with  damp  and 
neglect.  It  is  horrible,  horrible!" 

"Poor  boy!"  said  Aline,  turning  her  large  limpid  eyes 
upon  him;  "poor  boy!" 

(  M  436 )  O 


98  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

The  tears  suddenly  started  into  his  eyes.  He  was  still 
weak,  of  course,  from  his  illness,  and  was  likely  to  be  for 
a  long  time. 

"  It  isn't  the  ruin  and  dirt  and  discomfort — it  is — other 
things.  I  believe  my  poor  grandfather  is  mad,  and  that 
fellow  Gaskin,  his  bailiff, — if  ever  I  saw  scoundrelism  in 
a  human  being  it  is  in  that  fellow.  I  flogged  him  soundly 
the  first  day  I  was  at  Castle  Angry.  I  found  him 
savagely  ill-treating  one  of  those  wretched  dogs,  which 
he  had  taken  care  to  tie  up  securely  first." 

"Oh!"  said  Aline  in  a  low  voice,  which,  I  am  afraid, 
trembled  with  pleasure.  "And  what  did  your  grand- 
father say  when  he  heard?" 

"He  came  out  in  the  middle  of  it,  and  roared  with 
laughter.  Gaskin  was  cutting  capers  to  make  anyone 
laugh  if  the  thing  hadn't  been  so  sickening.  He's  a 
coward  too.  He  slunk  off  as  gray  as  lead  when  I  let 
him  go.  It  made  me  feel  that  to  flog  such  a  creature  was 
degradation." 

"Oh  no,"  cried  Aline,  "surely  not!  It  was  right  to 
make  him  feel  something  of  the  pain  he  had  inflicted. 
Still,  you  must  be  careful  of  the  man.  I  am  sure  he 
would  make  a  dangerous  enemy.  But  perhaps  you  will 
not  go  back  to  Castle  Angry  when  you  leave  us.  You 
will  return  to  Warwickshire?" 

A  cloud  came  over  his  face. 

"  I  think  not ;  my  place  is  here.  My  grandfather  is 
very  old,  Miss  Brandon,  older  than  anyone  would  think. 
His  age  will  find  him  out  suddenly,  as  age  does  with 


THE   STRANGER  WITHIN   THE   GATE.  99 

people  who  have  defied  it  beyond  the  natural  time.  He 
will  want  me  then,  even  if  he  does  not  want  me  now. 
Think  of  him,  old  and  alone,  with  Gaskin,  in  that  iso- 
lated house!  No,  I  shall  stay." 

"  You  will  be  right,"  said  Aline  slowly.  "  But  it  is  a 
heavy  burden  for  young  shoulders.  May  God  protect 
the  right!" 

He  looked  at  her  gratefully.  Then,  with  a  sudden 
impulse  he  took  up  a  fold  of  her  skirt  and  kissed  it,  and 
Aline  put  her  hand  on  his  head  as  if  she  were  blessing 
him.  They  seemed  to  have  forgotten  me,  so  I  just  came 
out  of  my  corner  and  extended  a  hand  to  him,  which  he 
took  and  pressed  warmly. 

That  night  when  I  was  going  to  bed  Aline  called  me 
into  her  room. 

"  Do  you  know,  Hilda,"  she  said,  "  I  never  thought  of 
telling  him,  after  all,  that  he  was  the  hereditary  enemy." 

"  No  more  you  didn't,"  said  I  cheerfully. 

Aline  looked  at  me,  and  then  smiled  broadly. 

"You  didn't  conduct  the  interview  on  those  grounds 
at  all,"  said  I;  but  all  the  same  I  felt  that  there  might  be 
a  serious  side  to  the  matter. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

AN   IMPOSSIBLE   FRIENDSHIP. 

THARLIER  in  the  evening  I  had  taken  the  opportunity 
-Ld  of  being  alone  with  Esther  to  tell  her  of  our  dis- 
covery. She  heard  me  quietly,  though  her  eyes  looked 
startled. 

"  But  it  ought  to  make  no  difference,  Hilda,"  she  said, 
when  I  had  finished.  "  It  is  not  his  fault  that  he  is  Sir 
Rupert's  grandson." 

"No,  indeed,"  I  assented,  "and  I  am  sure  no  one 
would  ever  suppose  it.  Still,  Aline  seems  to  think  that 
we  ought  not  to  let  him  get  into  our  lives,  so  to  speak, 
since  it  will  probably  be  impossible  to  keep  him  there." 

"To  get  into  our  lives!"  Esther  repeated  slowly;  "but 
he  only  came  such  a  little  while  ago!  One  does  not 
make  a  stranger  part  of  one's  life  quite  so  soon." 

I  thought  it  might  have  been  said  as  much  to  reassure 
herself  as  me;  but  then,  again,  she  might  have  spoken 
quite  in  good  faith. 

"  No,"  I  answered  her,  "  only  we  have  so  few  friends 
that  it  is  hard  to  feel  we  must  be  on  our  guard  against  a 
new  one." 


A.N    IMPOSSIBLE   FRIENDSHIP.  101 

For  a  day  or  two  we  all  tried  hard  to  obey  Aline's 
injunctions,  and,  without  being  inhospitable  in  any  way, 
to  leave  Mr.  De  Lacy  to  his  own  devices  more  than  we 
had  been  doing.  This  was  comparatively  easy,  as  he  was 
getting  stronger  daily,  and  could  read  for  himself  by  this 
time. 

But  we  had  reckoned  without  our  guest. 

The  second  or  third  time  that  Aline  came  to  his  sofa 
with  her  inquiries,  into  which  she  had  infused  a  little 
shadow  of  formality, — for  she  rather  repented  her  emo- 
tion that  first  day, — he  put  a  detaining  hand  on  her  arm 
when  she  would  have  turned  away. 

"  Miss  Brandon,"  he  cried  entreatingly,  "  why  are  you 
leaving  me  out  in  the  cold?  Why?  I  was  so  happy 
before,  and  I  have  had  nothing  for  two  whole  days  but 
cold  politeness.  What  have  I  done?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Aline.  "We  want  you  to  be  happy 
while  you  are  here,  but — " 

"But  what?" 

"We  are  near  neighbours,  Mr.  De  Lacy,  and  your 
grandfather  would  tell  you  that  friendship  between  the 
De  Lacys  and  the  Brandons  is  impossible.  We  shall  have 
to  be  strangers  when  you  leave  us,  for  I  don't  think  we 
shall  ever  be  enemies." 

"  But  why  is  friendship  impossible  between  us  ?  What 
barrier  is  there?  I  acknowledge  none,  whatever  my 
grandfather  may  say." 

He  spoke  peremptorily,  and  Aline  sighed. 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  but  I  have  time  to  tell  it  to  you 


102  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

this  afternoon.     Let  me  sit  down,  however,"  she  said,  for 
he  still  clutched  her  sleeve. 

He  let  her  go  with  an  apology,  and  Aline,  drawing 
over  one  of  the  chairs  that  were  embroidered  by  dead- 
and-gone  Brandons,  told  him  the  story,  only  suppressing 
any  accusation  of  foul  play  against  Sir  Rupert.  The 
men  who  had  been  friends  had  become  rivals  and  enemies. 
Sir  Rupert  had  acquired  part  of  Brandon,  and  had  be- 
come wealthy  by  means  of  it,  while  Brandon  had  gone 
steadily  to  the  dogs.  She  left  out  all  the  darker  shades 
in  the  story;  but,  despite  her  kindly  caution,  her  listener 
filled  them  in  for  himself.  As  she  went  on,  he  blushed 
and  grew  pale  alternately. 

When  she  had  finished  there  was  silence  for  a  few 
minutes.     Then  young  De  Lacy  said  passionately: 
"  I  see  you  have  good  reason  to  hate  me  and  mine." 
"To  hate  you!    Oh,  no!     How  could  we  hate  you  who 
are   quite   innocent?     And   then   one   does  not  usually 
hate — " 

She  paused,  and  he  took  up  the  sentence: 
"  Those  one  has  done  good  to.  But  that  is  Christian 
forgiveness,  Miss  Brandon,  and  I  ask  for  more  than 
that.  Listen;  whatever  fraud,  whatever  foul  play  my 
grandfather  used  against  yours,  I  abhor  a  thousand  times 
more  than  you  do.  I  want  none  of  his  ill-gotten  wealth. 
He  can  do  with  it  what  he  will.  If  it  were  mine  I 
should  only  strive  by  hook  or  by  crook  to  restore  it  to 
its  rightful  owners.  Because  he  has  done  such  things, 
am  I  to  be  cut  off  from  gratitude,  from  affection,  from 


AN   IMPOSSIBLE  FRIENDSHIP.  103 

lasting  friendship  to  those  who  have  nursed  and  sheltered 
me?  I  am  not.  When  I  leave  these  doors  you  may  shut 
them  against  me  if  you  will,  but  you  cannot  forbid  my 
waiting  and  watching  till  they  shall  open  again." 

He  spoke  with  a  boyish  impetuosity  that  swept  Aline 
off  her  feet. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  she  said,  "  why,  I  only  wish  that  we 
might  be  friends.  Don't  you  see  that  it  is  because  we 
mustn't  be  friends  that  I  try  to  keep  our  liking  and 
intimacy  from  taking  too  strong  a  hold  upon  us." 

"  You  are  not  likely  to  like  me  too  much,"  he  said 
bitterly.  "  The  kin  of  the  lamb  do  not  love  overmuch 
the  wolf  that  devoured  it." 

"  We  could  like  you  very  well,"  said  Aline  simply,  "  but 
we  must  not." 

He  turned  away  his  head  disconsolately. 

"  I  will  take  myself  off  as  soon  as  I  can,  Miss  Brandon," 
he  said  with  a  coldness  which  did  not  serve  to  hide  his 
pain.  "  I  dare  say  Dr.  Rivers  will  let  me  go  to-morrow. 
I  have  been  a  trouble  to  you  too  long." 

All  Aline's  tender  sympathies  swung  round  to  him 
sharply. 

"  Oh,  no!"  she  said;  " you  will  stay  till  the  doctor  thinks 
you  are  quite  able  to  go,  and  that  will  not  be  to-morrow, 
or  for  many  to-morrows." 

"  I  shall  go,"  he  said  obstinately,  "  unless  you  can  treat 
me  as  you  did  up  to  the  day  before  yesterday.  Don't 
you  see  that  I  can't  accept  your  goodness  and  endure 
your  coldness.  I  should  go,  if  it  meant  my  death." 


104  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

"  There,  there,"  said  Aline  soothingly.  "  I  shall  not  be 
cold  to  you,  and  you  must  stay  till  you  are  quite  well 
able  to  go.  I  don't  suppose  Castle  Angry  would  be  quite 
the  best  place  for  an  invalid." 

She  said  it  with  a  deprecating  smile. 

"  No,"  he  answered  seriously,  "  I  don't  think  at  all  that 
I  should  get  well  there.  But  when  I  leave  here  it  must 
be  for  Castle  Angry  all  the  same." 

So  it  came  that  our  precautions  were  set  at  nought. 
Aline  had  told  the  younger  ones  who  our  visitor  was, 
but  it  had  not  seemed  to  impress  them  very  much.  We 
had  no  hereditary  hatred  in  our  veins;  and  the  boys,  who 
listened  with  delight  to  his  spirited  accounts  of  big  foot- 
ball and  cricket  matches,  of  the  life  of  a  public  school, 
and  such  things,  pronounced  him  no  end  of  a  jolly  good 
fellow,  quite  irrespective  of  the  fact  of  his  being  a  De 
Lacy.  The  little  girls,  too,  usually  so  shy  and  strange, 
had  made  friends  with  him,  and  played  interminable 
games  of  dominoes  and  chess  beside  his  sofa,  evening  after 
evening. 

As  he  grew  stronger  and  was  able  to  stay  up  later,  his 
sofa  grew  to  be,  in  a  way,  the  centre  of  things  in  the  big 
drawing-room.  We  could  not  very  well  be  at  one  end 
and  he  at  the  other,  and  of  course  we  all  converged  to- 
wards the  fire,  near  which  his  sofa  was  drawn.  There 
was  no  doubt  at  all  that  he  had  very  attractive  ways, 
gentle,  well-bred,  and  gracious;  and  we  all  grew  to  like 
him  very  much  indeed. 

But  there  were  no  more  of  these  readings  of  poetry. 


AN    IMPOSSIBLE   FRIENDSHIP.  105 

I  took  care  of  that.  I  noticed,  too,  that  Esther  seemed 
now  to  be  the  one  he  had  least  to  say  to,  which  pleased 
me  well.  After  all,  that  look  I  had  caught  that  day  I 
read  Maud  might  have  meant  nothing,  or  only  the 
strong  admiration  which  Esther  must  awaken  in  the 
breast  of  anyone  with  a  feeling  for  beauty.  Daily  she 
grew  more  beautiful.  She  seemed  to  glow  in  the  shadowy 
corners  which  she  always  selected  for  herself,  like  a  deep 
damask  rose  half-hidden  in  leaves.  I  seemed  never  to 
have  understood  my  sister's  beauty  before. 

At  last  Dr.  Rivers  pronounced  our  visitor  fit  to  leave 
us.  He  had  known  for  some  time  who  the  young  fellow 
was,  and  having,  like  all  the  country-side,  heard  strange 
stories  of  Angry,  was  much  pleased  that  we  gave  him  the 
freedom  of  Brandon  so  long. 

No  word  was  sent  to  Sir  Rupert  of  his  heir's  illness  or 
return. 

"  He  has  not  shown  so  much  solicitude,"  said  the  boy, 
reddening,  "  that  we  need  consider  him  in  the  matter, 
nor  is  he  likely  to  find  the  joy  of  my  return  too  great  a 
shock." 

The  boys  did  not  seem  to  understand  at  all  that  with 
their  friend's  going  the  pleasant  friendship  must  come  to 
an  end.  Aline  postponed  telling  them  so  till  he  should 
be  gone,  and  there  was  a  sadness  in  hearing  them  make 
their  plans  for  the  future  which  should  include  him. 
At  such  times  he  would  say  nothing,  only  look  his 
pitiful  appeal  at  Aline,  who  would  refuse  to  answer  his 
eyes. 


106  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

At  the  last  he  made  a  last  appeal  that  we  should  not 
exclude  him. 

"You  could  only  come  by  concealing  it  from  Sir  Rupert," 
she  made  answer.  "  Don't  you  see  that  we  couldn't  en- 
dure that?" 

A  spark  of  hope  leaped  into  his  eyes. 

"But  if  my  grandfather  were  willing?" 

"  You  don't  know  him,"  said  Aline,  "  or  you  would  not 
think  it  possible." 

He  went  off  in  the  station  fly  one  day,  with  his  beauti- 
ful Red  Rover  following,  led  by  Lanty  M'Goldrick  from 
the  village.  As  we  turned  into  the  house  after  watching 
him  till  the  last  glimpse  faded  in  the  long  line  of  the 
avenue,  we  felt  as  sad  as  if  someone  had  died.  Only  the 
boys  still  thought  they  were  to  keep  their  friend. 

Aline  told  them  afterwards,  and  at  first  they  were 
sulky  and  inclined  to  be  rebellious.  Presently  they  saw 
she  was  right,  and  came  back  to  their  own  sunny  selves. 

"  Why,  after  all,"  said  Hugh  hopefully,  "  the  old  duffer 
won't  live  for  ever." 

"Any  night,"  added  Donald,  "he  and  James  Gaskin 
might  burn  up  old  Angry  and  themselves  together." 

"Donald!"  cried  Aline,  shocked. 

"  I  mean,  of  course,  after  Harry  had  had  time  to  get 
out,"  said  the  culprit  innocently. 

The  twins  didn't  say  anything;  it  wasn't  their  way; 
but  I  think  they  missed  their  friend  very  much.  They 
went  about  for  some  days,  a  forlorn-looking  little  pair, 
with  their  hands  clasped  tighter  than  ever.  They  were 


AN   IMPOSSIBLE   FRIENDSHIP.  107 

not  quite  consoled  till  a  day  came  that  brought  a  beauti- 
ful box  of  games,  and  a  pair  of  most  ingenious  sister- 
dolls,  which  could  only  be  from  Mr.  De  Lacy.  Hugh  got 
a  new  gun  and  Donald  a  fishing-rod  on  the  same  mo- 
mentous day.  They  wanted  to  write  and  thank  their 
friend,  but  Aline  thought  it  better  not,  as  she  was  not 
sure  of  the  letter  reaching  the  right  hands.  He  had  said 
he  would  expect  no  answer,  in  the  brief  note  he  had 
written  to  Aline  from  Angry,  and  which  had  ended: 
"  Tell  Miss  Hilda  and  Miss  Esther  that  I  shall  never  for- 
get them  ". 

After  that  there  was  silence. 

We  often  wondered  how  things  were  going  with  him, 
and  if  he  were  getting  well  in  that  gray  old  house  that 
frowned  ever  blacker  and  blacker  in  the  gorge  of  the 
mountain.  But  we  had  no  means  of  knowing,  and  our 
lives  gradually  went  back  to  their  old  uneventfulness. 

I  often  laughed  at  myself  about  my  fear  as  to  Esther's 
heart.  Why,  she  of  the  whole  family  missed  young  De 
Lacy  least.  She  never,  like  the  rest  of  us,  wondered  what 
he  was  doing,  or  if  he  had  forgotten  us.  But  this  would 
not  have  set  my  mind  at  rest,  only  that  the  strange  beauty 
which  had  come  to  her  of  late  seemed  to  ripen  and  glow 
more,  day  by  day.  With  her  plainly  it  was  no  case  of 

Only  my  Love's  away, 

I'd  as  lief  the  blue  were  gray. 

In  the  spring  I  took  a  cold,  and  was  for  a  time  more 
or  less  kept  to  the  house.  Esther  as  usual  took  her  walks 


108  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

abroad,  and  would  bring  me  home  primroses  from  the 
wood,  or  wild  anemones,  daffodils,  and  violets  from  the 
cloisters  of  the  old  abbey.  She  was  everything  that 
was  sweet  to  me,  as  always,  yet  I  noticed  that  she  was 
less  dependent  on  me  than  of  old.  In  the  old  days,  if  I 
could  not  be  with  her  she,  too,  kept  the  house.  But  I 
could  not  grudge  her  her  walks,  seeing  how  she  came  in 
from  them  full  of  life  and  vigour,  and  would  lay  her 
cold,  fresh  cheek  to  mine  with  such  compassion  for  my 
house-bound  state. 

Then  something  happened  that  put  Harry  De  Lacy  for 
the  time  out  of  all  our  minds,  for  with  us  Brandons  blood 
is  thicker  than  water  in  a  truer  sense  than  it  is  of  most 
families. 


CHAPTER    X. 

FROM  THE   NIGHT  AND   THE  STORM. 

FOR  some  time  Pierce's  letters  had  been  irregular,  and 
when  they  came  had  been  the  merest  scraps,  very 
unsatisfactory  to  Aline,  one  could  see,  though  she  often 
said  that,  moving  about  so  much  as  he  did,  Pierce  couldn't 
be  expected  to  write  letters  like  a  home-keeping  woman. 

Then  had  come  a  couple  of  months  of  silence,  during 
which  Aline  fretted  visibly,  at  least  during  the  latter 
portion  of  the  time,  for  of  course  she  did  not  begin  to 
worry  at  once,  and  there  had  been  the  distraction  of 
young  De  Lacy's  accident  and  convalescence  in  the  house. 

It  was  now  April,  and  blithe,  beautiful  weather.  The 
smaller  trees  were  all  in  leaf,  and  the  bigger  ones  were 
cloudy  with  the  coming  leafage.  It  was  sunny  every 
day,  with  a  touch  of  east  wind,  which  brought  the  most 
beautiful  colours  on  Brandon  Hill,  bronzes  and  crimsons 
and  golds,  instead  of  his  usual  soft  azures.  The  kitchen- 
garden  was  a  forest  of  white  blossom,  and  the  apple-buds 
were  pushing  open  a  little  rosier  every  day.  I  was  get- 
ting rid  of  my  cold,  and  was  out  walking  every  day  on 
the  sheltered  side  of  the  house,  in  the  gardens,  or  on  the 
grassy  terrace  overlooking  the  rose-garden. 


110  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

I  came  on  Oona  one  day  in  the  kitchen-garden  picking 
spinach  into  her  apron. 

"Why,  Oona,"  I  said,  "you  are  going  to  give  us  an 
early  dish.  I  thought  you  wouldn't  be  putting  it  on  the 
table  for  a  fortnight  yet." 

"  There'll  be  a  stranger  to  dinner,  Miss  Hilda.  Three 
nights  running  I've  dreamt  of  a  man  dressed  in  black, 
but  the  face  of  him  I  couldn't  see,  coming  in  over  the 
threshold  stone,  and  this  morning  there  was  a  stranger 
in  my  tea-cup,  so  there's  someone  coming  over  the  hill." 

"And  you've  picked  the  spinach  because  of  your 
dreams." 

"  Yes,  and  killed  a  pair  of  chickens.  One  of  them  was 
a  pullet,  but  as  she'd  learned  to  crow  it  couldn't  be  lucky 
to  keep  her.  Chickens,  an'  a  bit  o'  bacon,  an'  a  dish  o' 
spinach  is  good  feeding  for  anybody,  if  it  was  Miss  Freda 
or  Master  Pierce  even." 

"  Your  banshee  never  came  to  anything,  Oona,"  I  said. 

"  The  year's  not  out,  Miss  Hilda,"  she  answered  solemnly. 

But  I  was  not  to  be  depressed  by  Oona's  superstitions 
this  bright  spring  morning,  so  I  went  off  laughing,  and 
left  her  shaking  her  old  head  in  its  snowy  cap-frills. 

The  day  passed  without  event,  and  it  was  late  after- 
noon. Esther  was  still  out,  and  I  had  thought  I  would 
go  a  little  way  to  meet  her,  so  after  Aline  had  wrapped 
me  up  in  a  soft  old  Indian  cashmere  shawl,  and  enjoined 
on  me  not  to  go  too  far,  I  started  off  down  the  avenue. 
I  went  farther,  perhaps,  than  I  intended,  for  I  expected 
Esther  to  come  in  sight  at  every  turn.  Anyhow  all  at 


FROM  THE   NIGHT  AND   THE   STORM.  Ill 

once  I  felt  a  little  tired,  and  so  sat  down  on  the  mossy 
trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  to  wait  for  her.  The  evening  was 
rosy  now,  and  translucent  yellow,  and  palest  green,  and 
Brandon  had  flushed  rosy  pink,  and  was  wearing  the 
evening  star  in  his  hair. 

"  If  she  doesn't  come  soon,"  said  I,  "  I  must  turn  back." 

And  just  at  that  moment  I  heard,  in  the  silence,  wheels 
and  the  trotting  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  road.  The 
sound  was  coming  nearer  every  minute,  and  was  suf- 
ficient of  a  novelty  to  attract  my  attention,  for,  as  I  have 
said  before,  the  road  to  Brandon  led  nowhere  but  to 
Brandon,  the  only  exit  from  it,  after  Brandon  gates, 
being  a  horrible  rutty  boreen,  too  narrow  for  anything 
but  the  smallest  donkey-cart. 

"Hullo!"  said  I  to  myself — I  have  learnt  slang  from 
the  boys,  you  see — "Oona's  stranger,  for  a  ducat!"  and  I 
began  to  feel  rather  excited. 

With  the  sensitive  hearing  of  a  country-girl,  I  could 
follow  the  sound  of  the  car  through  its  many  windings 
and  turnings,  and  could  even  catch  the  murmur  of  voices 
when  the  turning  was  towards  Brandon,  and  not  away 
from  it,  or  in  a  hollow. 

Presently  there  was  a  pause,  and  I  knew  the  car  had 
stopped  at  the  gate,  and  that  the  driver  was  leading  his 
horse  through,  for  our  last  lodge-keeper,  Larry  Heffer- 
man,  had  been  dead  two  years,  and  we  had  not  filled  his 
place.  Then  I  heard  the  car  coming  on  towards  me  up 
the  avenue. 

I  listened  in  strained   expectancy,  still   keeping   my 


112  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

place  on  the  log.  It  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Then  it 
turned  on  to  the  long  straight  bit  at  the  other  end  of 
which  I  was  sitting.  There  was  one  person  on  it  besides 
the  driver — a  tall  man,  much  muffled,  despite  the  clemency 
of  the  April  evening.  As  they  came  near  me  I  saw  him 
lean  across  and  speak  to  the  driver.  Then  the  car  stopped 
and  he  alighted  slowly  and  painfully,  and,  taking  a  bag 
from  the  seat,  came  on  to  where  I  was  sitting,  while  the 
car  turned  round  and  drove  slowly  off. 

The  man  came  up  to  me  and  stopped.  I  could  scarcely 
see  his  face,  for  the  muffling  and  the  soft  hat.  But  there 
was  something  familiar  about  it,  and  yet  unfamiliar, 
which  made  me  jump  up,  trembling  slightly. 

"Why,  it  is  little  Hilda!"  said  the  man,  and  with  the 
sound  of  his  voice  uncertainty  vanished. 

"  Oh,  Pierce,"  I  cried,  "  Pierce !  How  glad  Aline  will 
be!"  And  then  I  added,  nearly  in  the  same  breath: 

"But  what  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself?  You 
are  not  the  Pierce  that  went  away.  Have  you  been  ill, 
Pierce?" 

He  stooped  and  kissed  me  and  laughed. 

"  Five  years  make  a  difference  in  a  man's  looks,  little 
woman;"  and  then  he  coughed  a  hard  dry  cough,  which 
seemed  to  be  tearing  through  flesh  and  bone. 

"  And  how  are  they  all  ?  How  is  Aline  ?  And  you  and 
Essie,  and  the  twins,  and  the  boys,  and  Freda?" 

He  pushed  the  soft  hat  off  his  head,  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  looked  all  around  him.  Five  years!  Ah!  it 
might  have  been  twenty-five,  so  great  was  the  difference. 


FROM   THE   NIGHT  AND  THE   STORM.  113 

This  was  not  our  Pierce,  this  hollow-eyed,  gaunt-cheeked, 
white-lipped  stranger.  He  looked  taller  too  by  a  head, 
but  that  might  have  been  because  he  was  very  thin. 

"Dear  Heaven!"  he  said,  "how  sweet  it  is  to  be  at 
home!  How  often  I  have  longed  for  a  sight  of  old 
Brandon  there,  and  to  smell  these  delicious  woods!" 

He  patted  my  hand,  which  he  still  held,  softly. 

"  Come  along,  little  girl,  let  us  get  home.  I've  been  ill, 
and  am  ordered  to  be  out  only  in  the  sun.  How  fortunate 
that  you  should  have  been  mooning  down  here!  I  didn't 
want  to  go  in  on  Aline  suddenly,  with  this  sick  man's 
face." 

So  he  did  know  that  he  was  looking  very  ill.  What 
matter  ?  Home  air  and  tender  nursing  and  good  feeding 
would  soon  make  him  the  old  Pierce  again. 

He  would  have  taken  up  his  bag,  but  I  pushed  away 
his  hand  from  it. 

"  One  of  the  boys  will  run  down  for  it,"  said  I.  "  It  is 
as  safe  till  they  fetch  it  as  the  Bank  of  Ireland." 

There  was  still  no  sign  of  Esther,  and  we  walked  on 
towards  the  house.  We  met  no  one  to  be  surprised  at 
my  return  with  a  stranger's  arm  about  me.  Poor  Pierce ! 
Being  so  near  me,  I  could  hear  the  painful  catching  of 
his .  breath  as  he  walked,  and  now  and  again  he  had  to 
pause  to  recover  himself. 

The  hall-door  stood  open  as  usual,  and  I  brought  him 
into  the  drawing-room,  which  was  unoccupied,  and  to  a 
comfortable  chair.  He  sank  into  it  without  a  word,  but 
a  quivering  sigh  told  me  how  delicious  its  restf  ulness  was. 

(M436)  H 


114  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  Now  rest,"  said  I,  "  and  I  will  fetch  Aline." 

"You  will  tell  her,  little  Hilda?" 

"  Yes;  I  will  tell  her  that  you  have  been  ill,  and  have 
come  home  to  be  made  well." 

But  all  the  way  upstairs  Oona's  story  of  the  banshee 
would  haunt  me,  though  I  put  out  two  hands  to  drive  it 
away. 

I  found  Aline  writing  labels  for  the  rhubarb  and  par- 
snip wine  Oona  was  making.  She  looked  up  at  me  with 
a  questioning  smile,  and  I  noticed  that  she  was  not  look- 
ing well.  I  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  the  chair  and  kissed 
her  ear. 

"What  is  it?"  she  said.  "Have  you  had  a  nice  walk, 
and  found  Essie  as  you  expected?" 

"  I  didn't  wait  for  her.     I — I  found  news." 

Her  eyes  opened  wide  and  startled. 

"News!"  she  repeated  after  me.  "Of  Pierce?  It 
could  only  be  of  Pierce.  What  news,  Hilda?  Not  bad 
news?" 

"  Good  news,  darling." 

"  Oh,  Hilda,  he  is  coming  home !  I  know  by  your  face. 
Tell  me.  Oh  ...  he  is  come!" 

" He  is  come,"  said  I;  "but  wait,  don't  rush  away  like 
that.  He  has  been  ill,  and  has  come  home  to  get  well. 
I  was  to  tell  you  he  was  looking  ill  You  mustn't  be 
startled  at  the  change  in  him,  nor  startle  him." 

But  Aline  was  already  on  her  way  to  the  door,  and  I 
followed  her  as  fast  as  I  could.  After  all,  she  would 
have  time  to  get  over  the  shock  of  his  appearance 


FROM  THE   NIGHT  AND   THE  STORM.  115 

gradually,  for  now  the  kindly  twilight  would  soften  it 
down. 

She  went  straight  to  the  drawing-room,  and  I  followed 
her,  with  an  irrational  fear  lest  she  might  want  me.  I 
saw  Pierce  stand  up  and  lean  on  a  near  table,  as  if  he 
felt  faint.  Then  Aline  put  her  arms  round  him  with  a 
sharp  cry  of  love  and  pity,  and  I  went  out  and  closed 
the  door. 

Half  an  hour  later  Pierce  came  into  the  dining-room, 

O  7 

and  was  installed  in  a  big  chair  by  the  brisk  little  wood- 
fire,  which  had  been  lit  because  the  nights  turned  chilly. 
He  had  had  a  wash  and  a  brush-up,  and  looked  better 
than  when  I  had  seen  him  first,  and  because  he  had  been 
ill  there  was  a  little  table  set  beside  him,  to  which  we 
carried  the  dainty  bits  of  the  chicken  and  the  delicacies 
which  Oona  had  hastily  served  up. 

The  young  ones,  of  course,  could  not  see  how  woefully 
Pierce  was  changed,  which  was  a  relief  to  us.  Now  that 
the  lamp  was  lit  I  could  mark  the  changes  in  his  face. 
He  had  left  us  a  sunny- hearted,  sunny-faced  boy.  Now 
some  immense  trouble  had  drawn  a  myriad  fine  lines  on 
the  skin  that  had  been  so  smooth.  When,  for  a  moment, 
it  relaxed  into  quietness,  it  wore  a  curiously  tragic  expres- 
sion. More  than  illness  had  been  at  work  on  that  face. 
I,  in  my  dim  corner,  wondered  and  wondered  what  the 
years  had  held  for  him  to  change  him  so  greatly. 

Aline  had  taken  the  shock  of  his  changed  looks  well. 
I  think  her  secret  fear  for  him  out  in  the  briers  and 


116  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

thorns  of  the  world  had  been  so  great,  that  to  have  him 
at  home  was  for  the  time  being  joy  enough.  He  himself 
seemed  to  think  that  all  he  needed  to  get  well  was 
Brandon,  and  she  was  only  too  glad  to  believe  him. 

And  now  Oona  came  to  our  help  with  all  the  knowledge 
and  love  that  is  in  her  faithful  old  heart.  After  a  night's 
rest,  Pierce,  who  seemed  overjoyed  to  be  back  again,  was 
for  all  sorts  of  exertions  and  expeditions,  as  if  he  were  a 
strong  man.  But  Oona  put  down  her  foot. 

"  Breakfast  in  bed,  Miss  Aline,"  she  said,  "  and  if  the 
day's  fine  an'  warm  you  can  get  down  the  little  sofa  Miss 
Hilda  had  when  her  foot  was  bad,  an'  when  Mr.  Pierce  is 
dressed  he  can  lie  on  it  in  the  verandy.  He'll  have  to 
be  stronger  before  he  goes  racketin"  an'  tearin'  round 
the  place  like  them  young  colts  o'  boys." 

Aline  acquiesced  silently,  but  when  she  was  telling 
Pierce  the  arrangements  that  had  been  made  for  him,  she 
added: 

"You  must  rest  well,  you  see,  after  the  fatigue  of  the 
voyage,  and  be  patient,  and  do  as  Oona  bids  you." 

He  laughed  with  some  of  his  old  merriment. 

"  I  have  always  done  as  Oona  bid  me.  And  though  I 
feel  as  strong  as  a  horse  this  morning,  she  is  probably 
right.  I  used  to  think,  on  the  way  home,  that  I  should 
never  be  able  to  get  rest  enough." 

After  that  the  days  passed,  and  Pierce  seemed  to  have 
accepted  the  invalid's  part  even  gratefully.  I  would 
have  said  he  was  quite  content,  except  that  once  or  twice 
he  reproached  himself  for  being  an  expense  to  us. 


FROM  THE   NIGHT   AND   THE   STORM.  117 

"  I  am  a  useless  beggar,  little  Hilda,"  he  said  to  me  one 
day  when  I  was  alone  with  him,  "and  I  am  bitterly 
ashamed  to  have  come  home  empty-handed.  I  fought 
against  that  as  long  as  I  could, — so  long  that  it  was  near 
being  a  case  of  never  coming  home  at  all." 

"  Oh,  Pierce,  that  would  have  been  the  real  cruelty  and 
the  real  wrong!"  I  cried  out. 

"  I  felt  that,  Hilda.  I  thought  it  would  be  the  cruellest 
wrong  of  all  if  I  were  to  die  out  there,  and  leave  Aline 
the  heritage  of  that  eternal  sorrow.  I  kept  hoping  that 
things  would  be  better.  Indeed,  Hilda,  I  endured  much 
before  I  made  up  my  mind  to  come.  Yet  I  always  knew 
that,  in  a  certain  contingency,  I  would  come,  and  for 
that  I  kept  my  passage-money  inviolate,  even  when  I 
was  starving." 

"Starving,  Pierce?" 

"Yes,  child,  starving, — like  many  a  better  man.  Pri- 
vation paved  the  way  for  sickness  with  me.  But  you 
will  not  tell  Aline,  nor  anyone  else.  I  don't  want  to 
squirm  under  my  punishment,  which  I  richly  deserved. 
And  I  would  not  have  Aline's  tender  heart  wrung  after- 
wards to  think  upon  such  things." 

"  She  need  never  know,"  I  said.  "  We  will  make  you 
well,  Pierce,  and  Aline  will  be  happy." 

Then  I  saw  a  light  of  exaltation  break  over  his  face. 

"  Life  and  death  are  in  God's  hands,  little  one,"  he  said, 
"  and  if  it  is  death  for  me,  I  shall  not  repine.  It  may 
happen  to  a  man  to  save  his  soul  alive  in  the  very  gates 
of  death." 


118  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

I  said  nothing.  With  that  light  on  his  face  I  could 
not  talk  of  death  as  if  it  were  the  last  evil 

"  I  have  known  worse  than  death,"  he  went  on  dreamily, 
"  but  the  knowledge  shall  die  with  me.  God  knows  it  is 
no  merit  of  mine  that  I  did  not  give  my  immortal  soul 
for  the  asking.  I  have  been  snatched  out  of  the  gates 
of  hell,  little  Hilda,  and  shall  I  be  afraid  of  the  Valley  of 
the  Shadow?  Ah!  there  are  terrible  things  in  the  world 
out  there,  crueller  than  wolves,  deadlier  than  ser- 
pents." 

We  were  silent  for  a  time.  Pierce  had  turned  his  face 
away,  and  when  he  looked  at  me  again  I  could  have 
thought  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes,  but  perhaps  it  was 
because  I  was  crying  myself. 

"You  see,  there  is  nothing  to  be  sad  about,"  he  said 
softly,  "even  if  I  am  very  ill.  There  is  more  joy  in 
heaven, — ah,  yes!  and  if  there  is  joy  in  heaven,  is  there 
not  cause  for  joy  on  earth?  Believe  me,  child,  there  is 
no  real  sadness,  no  real  sorrow  on  earth,  except  sin.  All 
else  that  seems  sad  to  us  is  because  we  see  as  in  a  glass, 
darkly." 

I  never  found  Pierce  in  this  mood  again.  And  I 
believe  I  was  the  only  one  to  whom  he  said  so  much,  for 
he  had  the  tender  compassion  for  Aline  that  would  not 
leave  her  the  memory  of  great  sorrow. 

Only  once  afterwards  did  he  touch  upon  those  years. 

"  Desmond  would  have  saved  me,  Hilda,"  he  said  sud- 
denly one  day, — "and  I  would  not  be  saved.  When  I 
am  gone  I  want  you  to  write  to  Desmond,  and  tell  him 


FROM  THE  NIGHT  AND  THE  STORM.  119 

that  I  knew  at  last  he  was  right,  and  that  I  died  loving 
and  thanking  him.  You  will  do  that  for  me,  Hilda?" 

I  said  I  would  do  it,  and  he  was  satisfied.  It  was 
curious  that  he  should  have  chosen  me  for  his  confidant 
about  such  things.  I  know  he  did  not  talk  to  Aline, 
close  as  the  bond  was  between  them,  as  if  he  did  not 
expect  to  live. 

Good  old  Oona  surpassed  herself  in  those  days  after 
Pierce  came  home.  I  had  rather  feared  her  superstitions, 
the  superstitions  the  peasants  love;  but  if  she  felt  them 
she  did  not  impart  them  to  me.  She  was  indefatigable 
in  compounding  dainty  dishes  to  tempt  Pierce's  weak 
appetite,  and  she  brought  out  of  her  stores  of  knowledge 
wonderful  recipes  for  healing  and  strengthening. 

But  as  the  days  turned  round  to  summer,  Pierce  did 
not  grow  stronger. 


CHAPTER  XL 

JL   FAIRY    GODMOTHER 

OLD  Dr.  Devine  had  seen  Pierce  soon  after  his  return, 
very  much  against  our  invalid's  wishes.  He  had  not 
enlightened  us  much,  nor  given  us  much  comfort. 

"  Go  on  as  you  are  doing,"  he  had  said  to  Aline  in  his 
fat,  comfortable  way.  "Plenty  of  port  wine  and  fresh 
eggs,  and  keep  him  from  taking  cold." 

But  so  much  we  had  known  before,  and  at  Pierce's 
earnest  request  we  had  troubled  Dr.  Devine  no  further. 

"  Hilda,"  said  Esther  to  me  one  day,  "  do  you  remember 
that  when  your  foot  was  so  bad  Aline  sold  her  collet  to 
get  you  the  best  doctor  that  could  be  procured  for  money  ?" 

"Could  I  forget  it?  "said  I. 

"Well,  don't  you  think  that  something  ought  to  be 
done  for  Pierce  in  the  same  way?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  but  how  are  we  to  raise  the  money  ? 
I  do  think  Freda  ought  to  help  us." 

"I  believe  Aline  thought  the  same  thing  when  she 
wrote  to  her  all  about  Pierce's  illness,  but  Freda  evidently 
thinks  differently.  Do  you  remember  how  generous 
Freda  once  was?" 


A   FAIRY   GODMOTHER.  121 

"  Yes,"  said  I  wisely,  "  but  then  she  was  a  girl.  I  believe 
she  has  grown  selfish  for  that  child.  There,  I  have  said 
it,  and  it  is  the  first  time  any  of  us  have.  What  is  the 
use  of  our  going  about  wondering  at  Freda  in  our  secret 
hearts  and  shutting  our  lips  upon  it?" 

"  It  is  strange  about  her.  However,  Hilda,  if  she  will 
not  help,  we  must.  We  must  sell  our  sapphires." 

"  Would  they  bring  much  ?  They  are  heavy  and  old- 
fashioned." 

"  I  daresay  they  are  rather  ugly,  but  they  will  sell  for 
the  stones.  We  won't  ask  Aline.  She  would  sell  her 
own  things,  but  she  would  feel  our  parting  with  ours. 
Once  it  is  irrevocable,  she  will  be  glad." 

We  went  upstairs  and  took  out  our  parures,  and  looked 
at  them  with  a  little  melancholy.  They  were  our  only 
jewels  of  value,  and  though  we  never  had  any  occasion 
for  wearing  them,  we  had  always  felt  that  some  day  the 
occasion  might  come.  Now  that  we  were  going  to  give 
them  up  they  seemed  beautiful,  glowing  deeply  against 
the  white  velvet  of  their  cases.  We  had  each  a  necklet 
and  pendant,  a  brooch  and  ear-rings,  and  a  bracelet. 
Esther,  in  addition,  had  a  little  tiara  of  the  stones  set 
round  with  small  diamonds. 

"  But  how  are  we  to  sell  them?"  I  asked. 

"I  have  thought  of  that,"  said  Esther.  "If  we  ask 
Mr.  Benson  he  will  sell  them  for  us  to  the  Dublin  gold- 
smith from  whom  he  bought  his  new  altar-plate.  There, 
shut  them  up,  Hilda  dear.  We  have  not  needed  them 
all  the  years,  and  we  are  not  going  to  miss  them  now." 


122  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

She  went  off  to  see  Mr.  Benson  that  afternoon,  with  the 
cases  in  brown  paper  under  her  arm.  We  felt  like  a  pair 
of  conspirators;  but  Pierce  must  have  his  doctor  and  all 
the  things  he  needed,  and  I  think  the  sacrifice  made  us 
both  happy,  once  it  was  over  and  done  with. 

Mr.  Benson  accepted  the  commission  when  it  had  been 
explained  to  him  that  the  things  were  really  and  truly 
our  own,  and  that  there  was  such  sore  need  for  money  at 
Brandon. 

A  few  days  later  Esther  went  over  to  the  Rectory  for 
the  goldsmith's  answer.  It  was  nearly  dinner-time  when 
she  came  back,  and  I  was  washing  my  hands  upstairs  in 
my  own  room  when  she  came  in,  still  wearing  her  hat, 
and  laid  down  something  on  the  table.  My  heart  sank, 
for  it  looked  uncommonly  like  our  jewel-cases,  only  not 
quite  so  thick. 

"Ah!"  said  I  to  myself,  "so  the  old  things  were  worth- 
less after  all ;  and  Pierce  must  go  without  his  doctor,  and 
his  port  wine,  and  game,  and  all  the  things  that  may  save 
his  life!" 

But  Esther,  who  had  not  spoken,  had  locked  the  door 
and  returned  to  the  table.  She  had  bright  spots  of 
excitement  in  each  cheek,  and  as  I  dried  my  hands  on  the 
towel  and  came  towards  her  she  put  down  a  heavy, 
lumpish  parcel  on  the  table,  and,  reaching  for  my  scissors 
with  a  hand  that  trembled,  she  cut  the  cord,  opened  a 
little  bag  that  was  inside,  and  spilt  the  contents  on  the 
table.  I  was  so  near  screaming  out  at  the  sight  that.  I 
had  to  clap  both  hands  on  my  mouth.  There,  on  the 


A  FAIRY   GODMOTHER.  123 

table,  glittering  before  me,  was  a  substantial  heap  of  sov- 
ereigns— a  great  heap,  it  seemed  to  me  at  the  first  glance. 

"One  hundred  pounds!"  said  Esther  in  an  exultant 
voice.  "  Actually  a  hundred  pounds  for  the  old  sapphires! 
That  dear  Mr.  Benson  went  to  the  bank  and  cashed  the 
cheque,  and  got  it  all  in  gold,  knowing  it  would  delight 
us  so." 

"  And  to  think  they've  been  lying  there  so  uselessly  all 
those  years!"  said  I. 

"  They  could  never  have  served  us  as  they  will  now," 
said  Esther  again;  and  we  both  stood  gloating  over  that 
heap  of  sovereigns  as  though  we  were  a  pair  of  misers. 

Then  Esther  began  putting  back  the  gold  again  in  the 
little  bag  which  had  held  it.  When  she  had  drawn  the 
strings  and  wrapped  it  in  its  outer  covering  of  brown 
paper  my  eye  fell  on  the  other  square-shaped  parcel. 

"What  is  this?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  Hilda,"  said  Esther,  rather  guiltily,  "  Mr.  Benson 
thought  we  would  not  sell  both  parures  till  we  saw  what 
one  would  fetch!  He  guessed  the  stones  were  valuable. 
So  I  have  brought  back  yours." 

Well,  for  the  moment  I  felt  nothing  but  vexation, 
which  quite  put  out  of  my  mind  the  fact  that  it  had 
been  rather  a  wrench  to  give  up  the  sapphires. 

"  You  wretched,  mean  girl!"  said  I.  "  You  know  it  was 
my  place  to  give  the  sapphires,  seeing  what  Aline  had 
done  for  me.  You  should  have  kept  yours.  What  use 
are  jewels  to  me,  seeing  that  even  if  we  were  asked  to  balls 
and  such  things  I  would  have  no  place  there?" 


124  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Hush,  hush,  Hilda!"  said  Esther  in  her  gentle  way. 
"  Your  jewels  may  be  wanted  later;  and  in  any  case  mine 
were  the  more  valuable,  and  brought  in  the  bigger  sum." 

Now  I'm  afraid  this  makes  us  seem  rather  unnatural, 
for  girls,  by  nature,  love  their  pretty  things;  only,  you 
see,  as  we  were  both  well  on  in  the  twenties,  and  had 
never  had  an  opportunity  of  wearing  jewels,  and  never 
seemed  likely  to  have,  the  things  were  not  of  so  much 
account  in  our  happiness.  Besides,  money  was  wanted 
so  sorely  that  the  old  jewels  counted  for  very  little  by 
comparison. 

"I  shall  never  need  mine,  never!"  said  Esther,  with 
conviction.  • 

"  And  in  any  case  mine  are  yours,"  added  I. 

Then  we  went  down  to  Aline  and  spilled  the  money  in 
her  lap.  We  were  a  little  nervous  about  acting  on  our 
own  responsibility,  so  we  blurted  the  story  out  in  a  great 
hurry;  and  then,  when  Aline  would  have  held  up  horror- 
stricken  hands  at  the  loss  of  the  sapphires,  we  simply 
cried  out,  "  It  is  for  Pierce,  you  know,  for  Pierce,"  and  so 
silenced  her. 

We  kept  from  Pierce  the  secret  of  how  the  Dublin 
doctor's  fee  was  paid,  but  all  the  same  he  was  vexed  and 
disturbed  when  he  heard  that  we  had  sent  for  him.  The 
great  man  came  and  went,  and  left  us  sadder  than  before. 
Whatever  hopes  we  had  had  from  his  visit  were  dissipated 
in  thin  air  after  he  had  gone. 

"I  can  give  you  no  hope  of  your  brother's  ultimate 
recovery,"  he  had  said  to  Aline.  "  Constant  and  tender 


A   FAIRY   GODMOTHER.  125 

care  may  keep  him  with  you  a  little  while,  but  the 
mischief  is  too  deep-rooted  for  our  skill  to  reach." 

He  had  looked  at  her  compassionately  out  of  his  stern 
gray  eyes  and  pressed  her  hand  in  silence.  After  all,  we 
had  known  it  all  the  time,  had  known  we  were  only 
buoying  ourselves  up  with  faint  hopes. 

"How  long?"  said  Aline. 

"Perhaps  a  twelvemonth,"  said  the  doctor,  "perhaps 
not  so  long." 

After  he  had  gone  we  left  Aline  alone,  as  she  asked  us. 
She  wanted  to  gain  composure  before  she  went  back  to 
Pierce.  In  her  little  octagon  room,  holy  with  -the  atmo- 
sphere of  her  prayers  and  long  patience,  we  left  her  to  gain 
courage  and  comfort  from  the  Source.  Our  hearts  were 
heavy  for  her,  but  we  knew  her  Comforter  would  not 
fail  Meanwhile  I  went  back  to  Pierce  with  a  foot  that 
lagged  and  a  face  that  vainly  strove  for  a  show  of  cheer- 
fulness. 

It  was  June  then,  and  Pierce  was  out  every  day,  sitting 
in  a  comfortable  wicker-chair  under  the  shade  of  limes. 
He  certainly  looked  less  ill  than  when  he  had  come  home, 
but  that  might  be  because  he  was  rested  and  refreshed 
now,  and  his  mind  at  ease  to  be  among  his  own  people. 

I  sat  down  on  the  rug  at  his  feet,  being  glad  not  to 
meet  his  eyes,  but  he  leant  forward  and  pulled  my  face 
round  towards  him.  As  he  did  so  I  lost  my  hard-won 
composure. 

"What,  tears!"  he  said,  and  smiled.  He  was  the  only 
one  of  us  had  heart  to  smile  that  day. 


126  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  The  doctor's  been  telling  you  that  I've  got  my  march- 
ing orders?"  he  said. 

I  bowed  my  head  silently. 

"I  wish  you  could  come  over  here  and  stand  beside 
me  " — he  spoke  as  if  an  immense  gulf  divided  us, — "  and 
see  from  my  side  how  death  looks.  There  would  be 
nothing  to  cry  about,  little  Hilda." 

I  answered  by  a  half-stifled  sob. 

"My  only  trouble  is,"  he  said,  "that  I  cause  you  all 
sorrow.  I  meant  to  have  done  so  much  for  this  old  place 
and  all  of  you  once,  and  I  have  done  nothing  but  drag 
myself  home  to  be  a  burden  on  you  all,  and  then  to  grieve 
you  by  my  death.  And  yet  if  you  could  know,  little 
Hilda,  how  impossible  it  was  for  me  to  take  up  life  again 
in  the  old  way,  you  would  understand  how  glad  I  am  to  go." 

Still  I  could  not  answer  him. 

He  spoke  again  with  a  curious  strength  and  will  that 
for  the  moment  made  his  voice  like  the  voice  of  one  in 
health. 

"  There  must  be  no  more  doctors,  Hilda.  Even  if  it 
comforts  Aline  I  cannot  have  it.  You  must  let  me  go 
quietly.  God  knows  that  in  being  here  I  have  more 
happiness  than  I  deserve." 

I  followed  his  eyes  as  they  gazed  around.  The  great 
lime  was  flinging  wavering  shadows  on  the  grass.  The 
sun  was  very  hot,  but  under  the  shelter  of  the  tree  a  cool 
wind  had  strayed  in,  and  flapped  about  with  half-folded 
wings.  And  facing  Pierce  as  he  sat  was  Brandon,  blue 
as  forget-me-nots. 


A   FAIRY  GODMOTHER.  127 

A  day  or  two  later  we  had  accepted  with  what  resigna- 
tion we  might  the  knowledge  that  Pierce's  time  with  us 
was  to  be  but  short.  It  is  wonderful  how  one  grows 
used  to  such  things.  Troubles  that,  imagined,  we  would 
have  said  we  could  not  endure,  we  accept  in  a  few  hours, 
and  go  about,  not  only  living,  but  carrying  out  the  usual 
routine  of  life,  as  if  the  thing  had  always  been  so. 

About  a  week  after  the  Dublin  doctor's  visit  there 
dropped  a  new  friend  out  of  the  clouds.  I  was  with 
Aline  one  day,  and  she  was  snipping  off  withering  roses 
into  a  basket  from  the  bushes  close  to  where  Pierce  was 
sitting.  To  us  came  the  newest  of  our  small  handmaidens 
— for  Oona  keeps  up  an  incessant  change — in  much  tre- 
pidation, and  holding  a  card  between  her  finger  and  thumb. 
Aline  took  it,  and  looked  at  it  in  surprise.  Then  she 
walked  up  to  Pierce. 

"  Why,  Pierce,"  she  said,  "  here  is  old  Lady  O'Brien 
come  home  to  Annagower,  and  come  to  make  a  call.  I 
thought  she  was  dead  long  ago." 

"So  did  I,"  said  Pierce.  "We  used  to  call  her  the 
Fairy  Godmother  when  we  were  small.  I  thought  she 
was  enormously  old  then." 

"  She  has  been  out  of  these  parts  a  long  time,"  said 
Aline.  "  But  I  must  not  keep  her  waiting.  However,  I 
shall  have  to  wash  my  hands.  Hilda  dear,  would  you 
mind  going  in  to  the  old  lady  till  I  can  come?  I  wish 
Esther  were  not  out,  for  Lady  O'Brien  is  her  godmother." 

"She  has  only  gone  to  see  Oona's  cousin,  Mary,"  said  I, 
"  and  may  come  in  at  any  minute." 


128  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

I  found  a  very  tiny  old  lady  sitting  in  the  biggest 
chair  in  the  drawing-room.  She  had  a  foreign -looking 
big  black  hood  pulled  over  her  face,  out  of  which  twinkled 
her  bright  eyes,  set  in  a  delicate  little  old  white  face. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "which  of  the  girls  are  you? 
and  why  didn't  you  come  at  once,  instead  of  keeping  me 
waiting?" 

"  I  am  Hilda,  Lady  O'Brien,  and  I  came  as  quickly  as 
I  could.  But  we  were  at  the  far  end  of  the  rose-garden 
with  Pierce  when  your  card  came,  and  I  can't  walk  very 
quickly.  Aline  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  She  was 
gardening,  and  had  to  wash  her  hands." 

"Why  can't  you  walk  quickly?"  snapped  the  old  lady. 

"I  am  a  little  lame,"  I  explained. 

"  Now,  how  do  you  come  to  be  that?  Mary  Brandon's 
children  were  born  without  blot  or  blemish.  What  mis- 
chief were  you  up  to  to  lame  yourself,  child?" 

"  We  went  to  the  races  without  leave,  and  fell  into  a 
ditch  on  the  way  home." 

"  Indeed,  then,  you've  been  too  much  punished,  for  I've 
been  doing  things  without  leave  all  my  life,  and  here  I 
am  with  all  my  teeth  and  my  eyesight,  and  my  hair  and 
complexion,  at  seventy  years  of  age.  But  never  mind," 
she  added  consolingly,  "  'tis  only  a  pretty  bit  of  a  limp 
after  all.  Not  so  long  ago  it  was  fashionable  to  be  a  bit 
lame,  because  one  sweet  woman  was  so." 

At  that  moment  Aline  came  in,  and  was  called  over  to 
kiss  the  old  ivory  face  in  its  black  hood. 

"You're  the  image  of  your  grandmother,  my  dear," 


A   FAIRY   GODMOTHER.  129 

said  the  old  lady  graciously ;  "  and  when  we  were  both 
brides  together  we  divided  the  county  into  factions  about 
our  beauty,  though  you  wouldn't  think  it  now  to  look  at 
me.  Eh,  what?" 

"This  exclamation  was  addressed  to  me.  I  had  just 
said  in  a  low  voice  that  I  could  well  believe  the  old  lady's 
statement.  I  repeated  the  speech,  to  her  delight. 

"  Well  done!"  she  cried.  "You've  a  pair  of  eyes  in  your 
head,  madam." 

Then  she  turned  to  Aline  in  her  quick  way,  which  re- 
minded me  of  a  bird  pecking. 

"  I  suppose  you  wonder  where  I've  come  from  after  all 
those  years?" 

"  I  hope  you've  come  back  to  Annagower  to  stay." 

"  To  make  my  exit,  my  dear.  I've  been  racketing  all 
those  years  up  and  down  the  world,  and  now  I've  come 
back  to  '  make  my  soul '.  Ireland's  a  pleasant  place  to 
die  in." 

"  You  don't  look  like  dying,"  said  Aline  with  truth. 

"Nor  feel  like  it,  my  dear;  but  I  am  an  old  woman — 
seventy  years  of  age.  I  thought  I'd  like  to  lie  beside 
poor  Sir  Peter  at  the  last,  though  it's  so  long  since  he 
went  he  must  have  given  up  expecting  me,  poor  man. 
But  where's  my  girl?"  she  asked  with  startling  sudden- 
ness; "I  don't  see  her  yet." 

"  Esther?"  said  Aline.  "  She  is  out,  Lady  O'Brien,  but 
I  hope  she  will  be  in  before  you  go.  Now,  you'll  have 
some  tea,"  for  at  this  moment  little  Annie  appeared 
with  the  tea-tray,  casting  at  the  same  time  alarmed 

(  M  436  )  I 


130  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

glances  at  the  old  lady,  who  indeed  looked  exactly  like  a 
witch. 

"  If  it's  fresh  and  well-made,  my  dear,  and  you  can  give 
me  cream  with  it.  My  doctor-man  at  Monte  Carlo  has 
absolutely  forbidden  me  tea,  so  that  if  I  am  to  ruin  my 
stomach  it  must  be  for  something  worth  having." 

"  You  could  have  milk  if  you  preferred  it,"  suggested 
Aline. 

"I  haven't  cut  my  second  milk-teeth  yet,  my  dear. 
Thank  you,  that  looks  very  nice.  Gebhardt,  the  doctor- 
man,  was  rather  a  fool.  I  often  told  him  so.  But,  bless 
you,  doctors  must  be  saying  something." 

Lady  O'Brien  was  graciously  pleased  to  approve  of  the 
tea  and  the  thin  brown  bread-and-butter,  for  which  she 
displayed  a  most  youthful  appetite.  When  she  had 
finished  she  dusted  off  the  crumbs  from  her  silk  lap. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  must  be  going,"  she  said,  "  for  there 
are  Daisy  and  Dobson  both  fast  asleep  in  the  sun,  though 
I  always  tell  them  they'll  get  sunstroke  one  day." 

We  followed  her  gaze  out  to  the  space  before  the 
window,  where  a  little  basket  phaeton  stood,  with  an  old 
pony,  evidently  asleep,  and  a  fat  coachman,  also  slumber- 
ing, as  she  had  said. 

"  By  the  way,"  she  said  as  she  stood  up,  "  where  are  all 
the  others?  Where  is  the  boy  who  was  next  to  you ?  A 
very  handsome  boy  he  promised  to  be.  I  should  like  to 
see  him.  I  adore  handsome  boys." 

"  He  is  in  the  garden,  Lady  O'Brien,"  answered  Aline, 
sadly,  "  and  I  am  sure  he  would  like  to  see  you.  But  he 


A  FAIRY   GODMOTHER.  131 

is  not  strong."  Her  face  quivered  suddenly.  "Indeed 
his  lungs  are  affected,  and  we  fear  he  will  never  be  very 
well  again." 

The  old  lady's  manner  changed  quite  suddenly  to  one 
of  the  utmost  kindness  and  sympathy. 

"Indeed,  my  dear,"  she  said  earnestly,  "I  am  very 
sorry  for  that.  The  young  should  be  well  and  happy. 
You  think  I  might  see  him,  hey?" 

"  I  am  sure  you  might,"  said  Aline,  smiling.  "  A  visit 
from  you  could  do  nothing  but  good." 

So  the  old  lady  took  her  silver-headed  cane,  and  pour- 
ing out  a  flood  of  memories  as  she  went,  accompanied  us 
to  the  shady  seat  where  Pierce  was  sitting,  with  my  little 
gray-headed  Paudeen  comfortably  curled  up  at  his  feet. 


I 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A  SECRET  ROOM. 

WENT  before  to  set  a  seat  for  the  old  lady,  and  to  tell 
Pierce  she  was  coming;  and  indeed  I  had  no  need  to 
hurry  myself,  for  at  every  bush  she  stopped  and  appeared 
to  be  reciting  with  animation  some  memory  of  her  youth. 
At  last  she  caught  sight  of  Pierce  and  quickened  her 
pace. 

"  Well,  young  man,"  she  said  as  she  took  the  chair  be- 
side him,  "  the  last  time  I  saw  you  you  were  in  white 
frilled  trousers  and  a  petticoat." 

But  though  she  said  it  to  make  us  laugh,  I  could  see 
that  the  shrewd  old  eyes  looked  at  him  with  great  com- 
passion. Poor  Pierce  brightened  up  immediately. 

"  And  the  last  time  I  saw  you,  Lady  O'Brien,  you  were 
the  toast  of  the  county  and  the  acknowledged  reigning 
beauty." 

"Hear  the  boy,"  said  the  old  lady;  "he  was  five  years 
old,  and  I  was  near  my  fifties." 

She  took  up  his  hand  and  patted  it  as  if  he  were  yet 
five. 

"  They  tell  me  you're  not  strong.     Dear,  dear,  how  did 


"WHAT  A  FIGURE  OF  A  MAN  YOUR  GRANDFATHER  WAS!     .     . 
I  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  YOUR  GRANDMOTHER!'' 


A   SECRET   ROOM.  133 

that  come?  You  were  a  beautiful  strong  child  as  I  re- 
member you." 

"  He  went  seeking  his  fortune  in  Africa,"  said  Aline 
quickly,  "and  took  cold,  and  was  neglected." 

"Dear,  dear!"  said  the  old  lady  again,  managing  to  get 
a  great  deal  of  tender  kindness  into  the  simple  ejaculation. 
Then  she  passed  easily  to  other  subjects,  seeing  that  we 
could  hardly  bear  this. 

"  How  this  garden  brings  me  back  things !  Not  things 
I'm  going  to  tell  you  children  about.  What  a  figure  of 
a  man  your  grandfather  was!  I  remember  walking  by 
his  side  in  this  very  garden,  and  he  wore  a  maroon  silk 
coat  and  silver-gray  stockings.  Ah,  the  men  have  no 
such  calves  to  show  nowadays!" 

She  shook  her  old  head  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"  There,"  she  said,  "  I  might  have  been  your  grand- 
mother. And  poor  Peter  had  never  a  calf  to  him  at  all; 
he  was  beef  to  the  heels,  as  they  say,  and  he  born  into 
the  time  of  small  clothes  too.  What's  become  of  that 
rapscallion  De  Lacy?" 

"  He  still  lives  over  there  at  Castle  Angry,  but  he  is 
seldom  seen,  I  believe.  He  keeps  within  his  own  walls," 
said  Aline. 

"  He  hasn't  found  the  grace  of  God  yet?" 

Aline  shook  her  head. 

"  Well,  well.  He  was  always  a  bad  lot,  was  De  Lacy. 
I  must  drive  over  some  day  and  give  him  a  bit  of  my 
mind.  He  was  in  love  with  your  grandmother,  but  I 
think  he  had  a  bit  of  a  soft  place  in  his  heart  for  me  too." 


134  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  safe,  Lady  O'Brien.  Sir  Rupert  lives 
in  almost  savage  isolation,  at  least  he  did  up  to  quite 
recently,  with  barred  gates  and  bloodhounds  walking 
about  inside." 

"  Like  an  opera,"  said  the  old  lady,  delightedly.  "  But 
why  do  you  say  up  to  recently?  Have  you  any  hope 
that  he  has  mended  his  ways?" 

Aline  told  her  then  of  young  De  Lacy's  accident  and 
of  his  determination  to  stay  at  Castle  Angry  at  all  costs. 

"  There  must  be  something  in  the  boy,"  she  commented. 
"  I  must  have  him  over  to  see  me  after  I've  been  there. 
Tut,  tut,  I'm  not  afraid  of  De  Lacy  or  his  dogs.  He'll 
keep  them  off  me,  I'll  go  bail" 

Just  then  Esther  came  in  view,  coming  towards  us 
down  the  long  straight  path. 

"  Here  is  Esther  now,  Lady  O'Brien,"  I  said. 

The  old  lady  drew  out  a  pair  of  glasses  attached  to  a 
long  tortoise-shell  stick,  and  levelled  them  at  poor  Esther. 

"  H'm,  h'm!"  she  said,  apparently  satisfied.  "  So  that's 
my  girl!  I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  her." 

Indeed  she  would  have  been  exacting  if  she  had,  for 
Esther's  confusion  only  added  to  her  beauty.  When  she 
had  reached  us,  the  old  lady  enfolded  her  in  a  warm 
embrace. 

"I  suppose  you've  never  thought  of  your  godmother, 
my  dear,  and  small  blame  to  you.  I  don't  believe  you've 
heard  of  me  since  I  gave  you  your  christening-mug.  An 
old  hunks  of  a  godmother,  surely — hey? 

"Never  mind,"  she  went  on,  without  waiting  for  an 


A  SECRET   ROOM.  135 

answer;  "  I  must  do  what  I  can  in  the  time  that's  left  me. 
Now  I'll  tell  you  what" — to  Aline — "  I'm  going  to  come 
over  and  take  this  young  man  for  drives  whenever  I  can 
and  it's  fine ;  when  I  can't,  I'll  send  Dobson,  who's  eating 
his  head  off,  and  Daisy,  who's  no  better.  There,  don't 
thank  me.  It  will  be  a  blessing  to  give  the  lazy  creatures 
something  to  do.  And  you  must  all  come  over  to  me  as 
soon  as  I've  shaken  down  a  bit.  Now,  good-by,  good- 
by,  my  dears!" 

She  kissed  us  all  affectionately,  only  extending  to 
Pierce  a  tiny  bejewelled  hand,  which  he,  understanding 
what  was  expected  of  him,  kissed  reverentially.  The  old 
lady  looked  pleased  as  she  went  off  with  Aline,  and  as 
for  us,  why,  she  had  given  us  enough  to  talk  about  for  a 
week. 

Aline  told  us  afterwards  how  nice  she  had  been  about 
Pierce. 

"Has  he  had  the  very  best  doctors?"  she  had  asked. 
"  If  it  is  any  question  of  expense  you  will  trust  the  oldest 
friend  you  have." 

"  Oh,  indeed,  Lady  O'Brien,"  said  Aline,  much  touched, 
"  I  would  trust  you  about  anything.  But  we  have  had 
Dr.  Lee- Corny ns.  I  believe  he  is  as  good  as  any  man 
living." 

"And  he  suggested  nothing?  A  sea -voyage  now? 
Wouldn't  that  be  the  thing?" 

"The  doctor  thought  not.  He  seemed  to  think  the 
mischief  was  too  far  gone.  He  said  we  could  do  nothing 
but  take  care  of  him  and  make  him  as  happy  as  possible 


136  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

for  .  .  .  the  time.  Indeed,  Lady  O'Brien,  expense  would 
not  stand  in  the  way.  We  would  sell  everything  we 
have  if  it  could  save  Pierce." 

"There,  there,  my  dear.  Well,  if  I  can  do  anything 
you  may  depend  upon  me.  To  think  that  that  lad  and  I 
are  taking  the  same  way  together,  the  way  that  leads 
away  from  you  all.  For  me  it  is  all  right;  I  have  lived. 
But  for  him — poor  boy,  poor  boy!" 

"  He  is  quite  happy  about  it,  Lady  O'Brien." 

"  Then  maybe  he'll  teach  me  his  happiness.  I've  been 
a  selfish  woman,  living  for  no  one  but  myself  all  my  days, 
and  now  at  seventy  I  feel  as  attached  to  the  world  as 
if  I  was  twenty -five;  aye,  and  more  attached.  I'm  a 
worldling,  my  dear,  a  worldling  to  the  core." 

Every  day  after  that,  unless  the  rain  fell,  the  little 
wicker  phaeton  would  come  rattling  up  to  Brandon,  with 
or  without  its  mistress.  If  Lady  O'Brien  did  not  come 
herself,  one  of  us  filled  the  vacant  place  in  the  phaeton, 
but  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  Pierce,  though  he  is  so 
affectionate,  did  not  enjoy  the  old  lady's  society  more 
than  ours. 

A  curious  and  touching  friendship  sprang  up  quickly 
between  them.  They  never  seemed  to  tire  of  each  other's 
company;  and  the  old  lady's  shrewd,  humorous,  slightly 
biting  comments  on  men  and  things,  and  her  glimpses  of 
the  world  she  had  left  behind  her,  seemed  to  afford  great 
delight  and  refreshment  to  our  poor  invalid.  It  was 
strange  to  see  him  so  humble,  so  devout,  so  cheerfully 
resigned  to  the  Will  that  was  taking  him  in  the  flower  of 


A   SECRET   ROOM.  137 

his  youth,  yet  looking  at  the  world  through  the  eyes  of 
tolerant  laughter,  with  which  the  world- worn  old  woman 
presented  it. 

"  The  boy  is  teaching  me  how  to  die,"  she  said  to  Aline 
in  one  of  her  serious  moments. 

And  one  could  scarcely  doubt  that  she  was  helping 
him  in  the  last  moments  of  his  life,  which  it  was  his 
desire  and  his  will  to  leave  with  cheerful  courage,  and  a 
trust  too  great  for  sadness.  We  all  grew  very  fond  of 
Lady  O'Brien  in  those  days.  She  had  come  in  the  nick 
of  time  for  Pierce. 

She  brought  us  all  out  of  our  shells.  Once  we  dined 
at  Annagower,  Aline  and  Esther  and  I,  but  only  once, 
for  Aline  would  be  with  Pierce  all  she  could,  and  she  did 
not  like  to  leave  him  a  portion  of  the  evening  alone. 
But  we  often  went  to  tea,  Pierce  and  Aline  driving,  and 
we  following,  Esther  and  I  and  the  boys;  and  hugely  the 
boys  enjoyed  it,  for  Lady  O'Brien  had  a  most  generous 
idea  of  catering  for  boyish  appetites. 

She  was  still  in  process  of  settling  down  at  Annagower, 
and  still  many  of  the  pictures  and  curios  she  had  gathered 
up  stood  in  their  cases  unpacked.  Part  of  the  house  was 
yet  in  the  hands  of  workmen,  for  it  had  got  damp  and 
uninhabitable  during  the  years  of  its  mistress's  absence. 

It  was,  or  is,  a  long,  low,  pleasant  house,  with  a  green 
porch,  and  roses  nodding  at  the  little  windowa  The 
room  which  I  associate  most  with  Lady  O'Brien  is  a  low- 
ceiled  panelled  room,  covered  with  Indian  matting,  which 
looked  so  cool  that  hot  summer.  White  curtains  hung 


138  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

before  the  windows,  through  which  the  light  came  green, 
because  the  gardener  had  been  forbidden  to  prune  the 
roses  and  honeysuckle  outside.  The  room  was  full  of  the 
most  comfortable  chairs  all  petticoated  in  green  and 
white  chintz,  and  there  was  old  china  behind  the  glass 
lattices  of  the  corner  cupboards. 

The  twins  used  to  say  that  there  was  no  tea  like  Lady 
O'Brien's,  and  I'm  sure  we  all  agreed  with  them.  That 
was  an  ideal  tea-table,  to  my  mind,  and  we  were  always 
so  hungry  after  our  walk.  Her  continental  life  had  not 
taught  our  old  lady  to  scrimp  about  honest  eatables. 
Delicious  pink  ham  and  cold  fowl  were  flanked  by  thin 
bread-and-butter,  and  strawberries  and  cream,  and  honey 
and  marmalade,  and  hot  home-made  cream-cakes,  and 
boiled  eggs  for  those  who  liked  them.  And  the  tea,  so 
hot  and  fragrant,  with  delicious  rich  cream.  Then  our 
hostess,  though  she  ate  little  herself,  expected  us  to  eat 
much,  and  was  so  delighted  at  our  enormous  appetites. 
Even  the  twins  did  not  scandalize  her,  and  how  they 
could  eat  so  much  after  feasting  on  the  raspberries  and 
strawberries  in  the  garden,  was  beyond  me  to  say. 

"Young  people  should  eat,"  she  would  say,  wagging 
her  old  head — "eat  and  grow:  that  is  all  young  people 
should  be  asked  to  do." 

I  really  think  that  she  quite  put  Esther  and  myself  on 
a  level  with  the  boys  and  the  twins  in  those  matters. 

Then,  when  we  were  leaving,  we  would  find  in  the 
pony-carriage  a  little  hamper  packed  with  the  dainties 
we  had  been  forced  to  leave. 


A  SECRET  ROOM.  139 

"  Martha  would  be  so  vexed  if  she  thought  her  sweet 
things  weren't  appreciated",  was  the  regular  excuse. 
Martha  was  Lady  O'Brien's  invaluable  cook,  housekeeper, 
and  personal  attendant;  and  the  two  had  been  together 
years  out  of  mind,  though  Martha  was  but  a  personable 
woman  of  fifty. 

Martha,  indeed,  would  have  been  sorely  hurt  if  any  of 
her  confections  had  had  to  go  to  the  kitchen  to  be 
devoured  by  Curtis,  the  page-boy,  whom  Martha  always 
referred  to  as  "that  dratted  boy",  or  fat  Dobson,  or  the 
pretty  housemaid,  who  was  the  old  servant's  bete  noire. 

Then  there  was  no  end  to  the  dainties  that  were  sent 
for  Pierce,  to  Oona's  mingled  jealousy  and  delight. 

Once,  when  we  had  been  visiting  at  Annagower,  Lady 
O'Brien  brought  me  upstairs,  alone,  in  a  rather  mysterious 
way. 

"You  can  keep  a  still  tongue  in  your  head?"  she  asked 
as  we  went  along  the  low  corridor  under  the  thatch. 

"  I  think  so,  Lady  O'Brien.  I  have  that  reputation," 
said  I  modestly. 

"  Well,  you  shall  see  my  secret  room,"  she  said. 

A  little  farther  she  opened  the  door  of  a  room,  and 
motioned  me  to  step  inside.  The  room  was  fresh  from 
the  hands  of  the  workmen.  It  had  a  green -painted 
ceiling  following  the  lines  of  the  roof,  so  that  it  was  very 
low  on  the  side  where  the  gable-window  opened.  It  had 
been  papered  in  pink,  a  pretty  paper  with  roses  on  it,  and 
the  woodwork  was  white.  A  little  brass  bed,  hung  with 
green  and  pink,  stood  in  the  corner,  and  there  was  pretty 


140  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

white-enamelled  furniture,  and  several  low  wicker  chairs 
were  covered  with  the  rosy  and  green  chintz. 

I  sighed  with  delight  as  I  took  a  long,  long  look. 

"You  think  it  pretty?"  inquired  the  old  lady,  who  had 
been  watching  me  anxiously. 

"  Pretty!  it  is  delicious." 

"  A  girl  would  be  happy  in  it,  hey?" 

"  A  girl  would  adore  it,"  said  I. 

"It  would  be  all  her  own.  Her  little  bed  would  be 
made,  soft  and  white,  and  her  books  would  be  in  the 
book-shelf,  and  she  would  come  upstairs  to  find  her  little 
pink  dressing-gown  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  her  little 
pink  slippers  to  thrust  her  feet  into,  and  a  bunch  of  roses 
on  the  dressing-table,  and  all  her  little  fal-lals  about,  and 
no  one  would  bother  or  disturb  her." 

"  She  would  be  a  very  happy  girl,"  said  I,  meeting  the 
old  lady's  rapturous  gaze. 

"  I  always  wanted  a  girl  of  my  own.  I  would  have 
known  how  to  be  good  to  one.  But  the  Lord  didn't  see 
fit  to  send  me  any  babies.  I've  got  this  little  room  ready, 
as  if  it  were  for  the  little  daughter  or  granddaughter  I 
never  had.  I  think  I  shall  have  ...  a  young  lady  .  .  . 
coming  soon  ...  on  a  visit." 

Now  I  knew  as  well  as  if  she  had  told  me  that  all  this 
was  for  Esther,  but  I  did  not  betray  my  knowledge. 

"  Would  you  think  now  that  she'd  be  so  happy  that, 
when  she  came  on  a  visit,  she'd  be  willing  to  stay  alto- 
gether?" 

"  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised,"  said  I. 


A  SECRET   ROOM.  141 

After  all,  there  was  no  reason  why  Esther  shouldn't 
come  to  Lady  O'Brien  and  be  happy.  She  would  not  be 
far  from  us,  and  of  late  the  close  companionship  that 
used  to  exist  between  Esther  and  myself  had  somehow 
lessened.  Esther,  more  than  of  old,  seemed  to  like  to  be 
alone,  and  I  no  longer  knew  all  her  thoughts  and  feelings 
as  of  old.  I  came  out  of  the  room  with  a  little  sigh,  but  as 
I  met  the  bright,  wistful  old  eyes,  I  nodded  reassuringly. 

"There  can  be  no  doubt  at  all  about  it,"  said  I,  "no 
doubt  at  all.  If  she  could  resist  that  room,  she  couldn't 
resist  the  love  that  made  it  ready  for  her.  Not  if  I  know 
what  girls  are  made  of." 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady  simply.  "  I 
feel  that  she  is  going  to  stay." 

She  locked  the  door  and  put  the  key  in  her  pocket,  and 
we  rejoined  the  others.  Of  course  I  kept  my  own  counsel 
about  Lady  O'Brien's  secret  room,  and  gave  myself  up 
more  and  more  to  the  companionship  of  my  books  and 
papers.  They,  at  least,  would  not  fail  me.  And  then  I 
have  always  Paudeen,  of  whom  I  have  been  saying  too 
little  in  this  narrative. 


CHAPTER   XIIL 

CINDERELLA. 

THE  summer  had  turned  round  to  autumn  before  Lady 
O'Brien  broached  her  project  about  Esther.  I  think 
She  waited  till  she  had  us  all  bound  fast  to  her  by  ties  of 
affection  and  gratitude.  Things  were  much  the  same 
with  us,  except  that  Pierce  had  grown  a  little  thinner, 
a  little  more  pinched  and  peaked  like  an  old  man,  and  a 
little  weaker  every  day. 

His  couch  now  was  in  Aline's  octagon  room,  and,  though 
the  autumn  was  a  fine  one,  fires  were  pleasant.  We  were 
there  one  day,  Pierce  and  I,  and  Paudeen  at  Pierce's  feet. 
A  little  wood  fire  sparkled  in  the  grate,  though  outside 
the  world  was  full  of  brightness — brightness  of  blue  sky 
and  yellow  sun,  and  golden  and  scarlet  woods.  The 
leaves  were  beginning  to  fall,  and  old  Brandon's  shoulders 
were  visible  now,  where  a  month  ago  we  could  only  see 
the  top  of  his  head. 

I  was  restless,  and  kept  going  round  the  panelling,  as 
I  had  so  often  gone  fruitlessly,  pressing  the  spines  of 
every  rose,  and  the  leaves  and  buds,  in  search  of  the 
hiding-place  I  always  said  must  be  there.  Pierce  lay 


CINDERELLA.  143 

watching  me  with  contented  eyes  which  had  a  spark  of 
amusement  in  them. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  it  is  here,"  I  said,  pausing  opposite  to 
him.  "Listen,  doesn't  the  panel  ring  hollow?" 

I  tapped  with  my  finger,  and  he  listened. 

"  There  may  be  only  the  wall  behind,"  he  said,  "  but  it 
certainly  does  ring  hollow." 

"If  there  is  a  hiding-place  it  should  be  easily  dis- 
covered," he  said  again.  "  I  have  always  found  a  singular 
innocence  in  those  contrivances." 

Now  each  panel  fitted  in  squarely,  being  carved  sepa- 
rately and  set  into  the  wall,  so  that  a  door  might  be 
suspected  of  any  one  of  them.  I  went  tapping  and  push- 
ing in  a  dissatisfied  way  round  about  the  room,  and  finally 
came  back  again  to  the  panel  that  rang  hollow. 

On  the  leaves  in  many  places  there  were  little  beetles 
of  the  kind  we  call  lady-birds.  They  had  specially  ex- 
ercised my  mind,  for  they  stood  much  above  the  surface 
of  the  carving.  But,  after  all,  it  was  Pierce  who  dis- 
covered the  little  door,  not  I. 

"  Do  you  see  that  fellow  about  the  middle  of  the  left- 
hand  side,  Hilda?"  he  said.  "Near  your  hand  now? 
Yes,  that  is  the  one." 

"  I  have  tried  him  over  and  over,  for  he  has  tentacles, 
and  the  others  have  none." 

"  Try  to  twist  him  instead  of  pressing  him." 

I  tried,  and  thought  he  moved  ever  so  slightly.  I 
tried  again:  yes,  there  was  no  doubt  he  turned  with  my 
hand,  but  I  had  little  purchase  on  him. 


144  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  I  know,"  said  I.  "  I'll  get  Oona's  hammer,  and  see 
what  that  will  do." 

The  claw-end  of  the  hammer  just  caught  the  little 
beetle.  I  gave  it  a  wrench  and  a  turn,  and  there  was 
the  click  of  a  bolt.  Then,  a  little  clink,  and  the  panel 
opened  towards  me.  It  was  simply  a  door  in  the  wall, 
where  I  had  been  looking  for  a  sliding  panel  all  the 
time. 

I  looked  at  Pierce  with  expectant  triumph.  He  was 
nearly  as  excited  as  I.  The  light  poured  full  into  the 
little  cupboard.  There  was  an  Indian  box  of  lacquer 
inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl  and  gold.  A  little  gold  key 
stood  in  it.  I  handed  it  to  Pierce,  and  drew  out  next  a 
pair  of  white  gloves  with  tarnished  gilt  tassels  at  the 
wrist.  Then  a  tiny  riding- whip.  Next  a  case  containing 
a  miniature  of  a  handsome  young  man.  That  was  all. 
Not  a  scrap  of  writing — not  a  word  by  which  we  could 
guess  at  what  time  the  girl  had  lived  who  must  have 
gone  away  so  suddenly  leaving  all  her  treasures  hidden 
in  the  wall. 

I  opened  the  lacquer  box  with  a  hand  that  trembled. 
Inside  it  was  divided  into  little  square  boxes,  surround- 
ing a  larger  box  in  the  middle. 

"  This  first,"  said  I,  lifting  the  cover. 

Within  there  was  nothing  but  a  faint  perfumed  dust 
in  the  corners,  and  a  tiny  bit  of  blue  ribbon. 

"Ah! "said  Pierce.  "All  that  remains  of  Dulcinea's 
breast- knot." 

We  opened  another.     Within  was  a  tiny  gold  bodkin 


CINDERELLA.  145 

and  a  thimble  studded  with  turquoise.  In  another,  an 
old  vinaigrette.  In  a  third  a  mother-of-pearl  bobbin 
wound  with  green  silk.  In  a  fourth,  a  tablet  of  ivory, 
with  a  gold  pencil.  The  last  two  were  empty. 

"  So  this  is  all  your  treasure-trove,"  said  Pierce,  looking 
down  at  the  quaint  box. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  aren't  they  lovely  ?  I  am  so  happy  to 
have  found  them,"  for  the  romance  of  the  discovery  grati- 
fied me  immensely. 

"  I  don't  quite  think  we  have  found  all,"  said  Pierce, 
who  had  been  examining  the  box.  "  There  must  be  a 
tray  under  here." 

After  a  little  search  we  found  the  tray,  which  slid  out- 
ward. It  was  a  flat  receptacle  for  jewels,  with,  at  one 
corner,  a  diamond- shaped  box  like  those  in  the  upper  part. 

"Garnets!"  cried  I,  in  an  ecstasy  when  the  tray  had 
slid  out.  "They  will  look  lovely  on  Esther,  and  will 
make  up  for  her  sapphires." 

Fortunately  Pierce  was  too  interested  to  notice  my 
slip.  He  took  up  the  collar  of  garnets  and  looked  at  it. 

"  Exquisite  setting,"  he  said,  turning  it  over  and  looking 
at  the  gold  honey-combing  at  the  back.  "  I  wonder  they 
put  garnets  in  such  a  setting." 

"  Everything  was  worth  doing  well  then,"  said  I,  lift- 
ing up  the  bracelets  to  match.  The  stones  were  laid  on 
closely,  almost  like  beads,  except  in  the  pendant,  where 
a  heart-shaped  garnet  was  surrounded  by  diamonds, 
There  was  a  whole  set  of  the  pretty  things,  including 
stars  for  the  hair. 

( M  436 )  E 


146  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  Look  at  their  soft  fires,"  I  cried,  "  how  they  will  light 
up  on  Esther's  creamy  skin!" 

"  They  are  for  Esther  then?" 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  them  to  be  for  Esther.  They  are 
mine  to  give,  Pierce,  and  .  .  .  yours." 

"Oh,  I  waive  all  claim  to  them,  little  girl!  What 
should  I  do  with  garnets  ?  I  think  there's  no  doubt  that 
the  jewels  belonged  to  the  lady  who  left  them  there,  and 
you,  I  should  say,  are  her  residuary  legatee." 

"  I  shall  give  Aline  the  thimble  and  bodkin,"  said  I, 
"  and  all  the  rest  I  shall  keep  myself." 

"  What,  the  tablet  and  the  vinaigrette,  and  the  whip 
and  gloves  and  the  portrait!  Aren't  you  rather  greedy? 
And  the  bobbin — I  had  forgotten  the  bobbin." 

But  I  saw  he  was  laughing,  and  did  not  justify  my- 
self. 

"Hullo,  there  is  something  we  have  forgotten!"  said 
he,  lifting  the  little  corner-box.  It  was  detached  from 
the  rest,  and  inside  was  lined  softly  with  silk.  It  held  a 
lock  of  brown  hair,  tied  with  a  piece  of  green  silk.  That' 
was  all. 

I  lifted  the  hair  reverentially,  and  put  it  beside  the 
brown  head  of  the  miniature. 

"Ah!"  said  I,  "but  she  should  not  have  tied  it  with 
green  silk.  Green  is  so  unlucky." 

I  put  back  all  the  things  in  their  hiding-place,  except 
the  jewels,  and  again  slid  the  bolt. 

"  Now,"  I  said,  "  no  one  is  to  know  the  secret,  not  even 
Aline.  I  like  to  think  it  is  mine,  and  yours." 


CINDERELLA.  147 

But  even  as  I  said  it  I  felt  that  it  would  not  be  his  for 
long. 

"  You  will  hoard  your  own  treasures  there,"  he  said, 
"  and  in  a  century  or  two  another  Hilda  will  come  upon 
your  locks  of  hair,  and  your  love-letters,  and  the  portrait 
of  Him,  and  wonder  about  the  girl  who  treasured  those 
things." 

"What  nonsense!"  said  I,  blushing.  "I  shall  never 
have  such  things.  What  she  will  discover  will  be  piles  of 
rejected  manuscripts;  and  she  will  peep  inside,  and  think 
how  very  dull  they  are." 

Presently  Aline  came  in,  and  I  told  her  of  my  discovery. 

"You  must  make  me  a  present  of  that  one  panel  in 
the  room,"  said  I,  "  but  I  will  never  tell  you  which  one 
it  is." 

"  Very  well,  Hilda,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  I'm  sure 
you've  earned  that  panel  by  your  years  of  industrious 
search." 

"  And  here  is  your  tribute,"  said  I,  putting  the  bodkin 
and  thimble  into  her  hand. 

Just  then  we  heard  that  Lady  O'Brien  was  downstairs ; 
and,  pushing  the  garnets  into  Aline's  work-basket,  for  I 
didn't  want  them  to  be  seen  till  they  were  Esther's  own, 
I  went  downstairs  to  ask  the  old  lady  to  come  up.  Since 
the  fire  had  been  lit  in  the  octagon  room,  and  Pierce  had 
sat  there,  it  had  come  to  be  a  general  assembling-place 
for  the  family. 

After  she  had  greeted  us  all,  and  perched  herself  in 
the  big  chair  by  Pierce,  she  said: 


148  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  You  won't  guess,  my  dears,  what  brings  me  over  to- 
day. It  is  to  ask  a  favour,  Aline.  There  is  the  County 
Ball  a  week  from  now,  and  I  want  to  take  my  god- 
daughter." 

"  But  Esther  has  never  been  to  a  ball !" 

"So  much  I  heard  her  say  the  other  day.  That's 
what  put  it  into  my  head.  Never  been  to  a  ball!  Why, 
I  had  worn  out  hundreds  of  slippers  dancing  at  balls,  aye, 
and  on  the  hearts  of  my  partners,  before  I  was  Esther's 
age." 

"I  wonder  if  she  would  like  it?"  said  Aline  doubtfully. 
You  see  it  was  such  an  unheard-of  thing  in  our  lives, 
and  there  was  Pierce  so  ill;  and  then  how  was  she  to  get 
a  proper  frock? 

"  Of  course  she  will  like  it,  not  being  a  saint  like  you, 
nor  a  literary  woman  like  Hilda,"  said  the  old  lady  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

Just  then  Esther  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Come  here,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  "and  kiss 
me.  Now  tell  us,  would  you  like  to  put  on  your  glass 
slippers,  and  step  into  my  pumpkin,  and  be  whirled  off 
to  the  Ball?" 

"  Better  finish  it,  Lady  O'Brien,"  said  I,  while  Esther 
stood  turning  red  and  white  with  excitement.  "  Cinder- 
ella has  no  frock." 

"Tut!"  said  the  old  lady;  "that  must  be  left  to  the 
fairy  godmother.  .  .  .  What  do  you  say,  my  dear?" 
to  Esther. 

"  I've  never  been  to  a  ball,"  said  Esther  nervously. 


CINDERELLA.  149 

"  Well,  you're  asked  to  one  now,  and  what  do  you 
say?" 

Esther  said  nothing,  but  looked  from  Aline  to  Pierce, 
wistfully. 

"  That  settles  it,  Lady  O'Brien,"  said  Pierce,  speaking 
for  the  first  time.  "Essie  would  plainly  like  it,  and  she 
must  go.  Thank  you  very  much." 

"About  the  dress,"  said  Aline.  "I  don't  think  we 
need  trouble  you,  our  kindest  of  friends.  I  have  a  few 
lengths  of  silk  somewhere,  and  we  have  a  dressmaker 
who  can  make  it  up.  .  .  ." 

"  I  have  a  little  Frenchwoman  who'll  do  it  in  half  the 
time,  and  with  a  thousandfold  the  wit.  Put  it  up  in  a 
parcel  with  an  old  frock  of  Esther's,  and  throw  it  into 
my  phaeton.  There,  my  dear,"  impatiently,  as  Aline 
hesitated,  "  don't  be  too  proud  with  the  oldest  friend  you 
have  in  the  world!  There's  a  virtue  in  receiving  as  well 
as  in  giving." 

So  Aline  yielded  the  point,  and  went  off  to  find  her 
silk.  I  wasn't  quite  satisfied  about  the  silk  myself, 
though  it  was  a  lovely  bit  of  old  gray  silk  gauze,  pow- 
dered with  violets.  But  gray  is  just  the  one  colour  that 
spoils  Esther's  looks;  and  then  the  garnets  with  those 
violets! 

However,  we  can't  have  everything.  I  shall  never 
forget  Esther's  face  of  joy  when  she  came  timidly  to  ask 
if  I  would  lend  her  my  sapphires,  and  I  put  the  garnets 
into  her  hands,  and  told  her  they  were  her  own. 

The  day  of  the  ball  Lady  O'Brien  sent  over  the  phae- 


150  THE  HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

ton  for  Esther  with  a  note  saying  that  if  I  would  come 
over  to  dine  and  help  her  to  dress,  they  would  drop  me 
at  Brandon  on  the  way  back. 

Now  it  was  an  ideal  arrangement,  for  we  were  all 
anxious  to  see  Esther  dressed  for  the  ball,  and  more 
especially  the  twins,  for  those  little  girls  have  a  most  amaz- 
ing taste  for  finery,  especially  considering  that  they  have 
hardly  ever  seen  any. 

When  we  arrived  at  Annagower,  we  found,  instead  of 
dinner,  one  of  Lady  O'Brien's  delightful  high  teas,  which 
was  much  more  to  our  taste. 

"  I  know  girls  always  think  dinner  a  dull  meal,"  said 
our  hostess.  "  It  is  only  as  they  grow  older  that  they 
discover  how  much  consolation  is  to  be  found  in  it." 

I  noticed  that  the  old  lady  looked  a  little  excited,  and 
I  guessed  that  Esther  was  to  be  introduced  to  the  pink 
room  that  evening,  and  I  was  right. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  meal,  to  which  I  did  justice  if 
Esther  did  not,  Lady  O'Brien  left  us,  saying  that  she 
would  have  Martha's  services  first,  and  that  when  Esther 
rang,  Martha  would  come  and  do  her  hair. 

"But  where  am  I  to  dress?"  asked  Esther. 

"  Hilda  will  show  you  the  way  to  your  room,  my  dear," 
said  the  old  lady,  going  off  rather  hurriedly,  as  if  to  avoid 
any  more  questions. 

Just  as  we  had  finished  tea,  the  fat  page-boy  came  in 
with  a  little  covered  dish,  and  set  it  before  Esther. 

"Her  ladyship's  love,"  he  said,  with  a  grin,  "and  she 
hopes  Miss  Esther  will  like  the  dish." 


CINDERELLA.  151 

He  whipped  the  lid  off  in  a  hurry,  and  there  was  a 
key  with  a  little  label  to  it. 

"What  is  this?"  asked  Esther  wonderingly. 

"  Better  read  the  label,"  said  L 

She  read  aloud,  The  key  of  Esther's  room,  with  her  god- 
mothers love;  but  looked  as  mystified  as  before. 

"  Never  mind,"  I  said,  "  come  and  see  the  room ;  I  know 
the  way," — and  off  we  went,  to  the  disappointment  of  the 
page-boy,  who  would  fain  have  seen  the  end  of  the 
affair. 

I  took  a  lighted  candle  from  the  hall-table  and  led  the 
way  upstairs.  When  we  came  to  the  door  we  found  it 
locked,  but  Esther  opened  it  with  her  key. 

When  the  door  swung  back  she  gave  a  little  cry  of 
delight.  There  was  a  bright  fire  in  the  grate,  and  there 
were  wax-candles,  with  rose-coloured  shades,  lit  on  the 
dressing-table.  The  room  glowed  rosily  before  us.  I 
led  the  way  to  the  dressing-table.  On  the  glass  was  a 
piece  of  paper,  on  which  was  written  in  delicate,  spidery, 
old  hand-writing. 

This  room  and  all  it  contains,  a  gift  to  Esther  Bran- 
don, from  her  old  godmother. 

Esther  gazed  at  the  piece  of  paper  with  her  eyes  full 
of  tears,  yet  shining,  and  her  lips  parted. 

"What!  all  this  for  me!"  she  said  incredulously. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  and  more," — for  I  had  been  using  my 
eyes. 

On  the  back  of  a  big  chair  by  the  fire  was  a  cosy  little 
dressing-gown  of  soft  pink  stuff;  and  before  the  chair  a 


152  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

pair  of  pink  silk-wadded  slippers  thrust  themselves  in- 
vitingly forward.  We  had  hardly  taken  these  in  when 
our  eyes  wandered  to  the  bed.  I  took  a  candle  hastily 
from  the  dressing-table  and  held  it  high.  There  lay  a 
most  lovely  frock,  short- waisted  and  long-skirted,  of 
palest  yellow  silk.  Beside  it  a  silk  evening  cloak,  of  the 
same  colour.  A  little  away  stood  a  pair  of  silk  shoes, 
flanked  by  silk  stockings.  Over  the  pillows  lay  an  arm- 
ful of  under-linen,  all  laced  and  frilled  in  the  daintiest 
way.  Not  one  thing  had  been  forgotten  that  Esther 
should  wear  that  evening. 

I  left  Esther  staring,  and  went  round  the  room  peeping 
here  and  there.  Nothing  had  been  forgotten.  On  the 
toilet-table,  or  put  away  tidily  in  the  drawers,  were  all 
the  requirements  of  a  girl's  toilette, — hair-pins,  pins,  deli- 
cate soaps,  perfumes,  and  all  manner  of  things.  Nothing 
seemed  to  have  been  forgotten. 

"  I  feel  like  an  enchanted  princess,"  said  Esther  at  last. 
"  But,  oh,  Hilda,  isn't  it  too  much  ?  Is  it  right  to  accept 
so  much?" 

"  I  wish  Lady  O'Brien  were  my  godmother,"  said  I. 

Just  then  Martha  knocked  at  the  door  to  know  if  Miss 
Brandon  would  have  her  hair  done,  so  we  had  to  adjourn 
the  discussion. 

Martha  was  certainly  a  very  clever  maid.  She  piled 
Esther's  hair  in  the  most  beautiful  soft  masses  round  her 
head,  seeming  to  bring  out  the  bronze  shades  that  I  think 
are  so  great  a  beauty  in  it.  She  did  everything  so  quickly 
and  expeditiously  that  in  a  very  little  while  Esther  was 


"GARNETS!"  SAID  THE  OLD  LADY,  PEERING  CLOSELY. 
"THEY  ARE  NO  GARNETS." 


CINDERELLA.  153 

dressed,  and  looking  so  grand  and  stately  a  young  lady 
as  she  stood  in  the  middle  of  her  little  room  that  I  could 
hardly  recognize  her. 

"  I  was  to  tell  my  lady  when  you  were  ready,  Miss," 
she  said.  "  She  wants  to  see  you  before  you  put  on  your 
cloak." 

And  then  she  went  out,  closing  the  door. 

I  clasped  on  Esther's  neck  the  collar  and  pendant  of 
garnets,  and  put  the  stars  in  her  hair.  They  looked 
lovely  with  the  pale  yellow,  and  Esther,  standing  there 
with  her  head  bent,  I  really  thought  must  be  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  creatures  possible. 

I  had  hardly  done  before  Lady  O'Brien  came  in,  ex- 
claiming at  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  in  order,  I  guessed, 
to  cover  her  embarrassment.  But  Esther  ran  to  her  and 
put  her  arms  round  the  little  old  lady  and  kissed  her 
without  a  word;  and  the  two  seemed  to  understand  each 
other  perfectly. 

I  noticed  that  Lady  O'Brien  had  carried  in  a  little 
packet  with  her,  and  presently,  when  she  put  back 
Esther,  and  stood  a  little  way  off  to  look  at  her,  I  saw 
that  it  was  a  jewel-case.  Her  eyes  rested  on  the 
garnets. 

"I  brought  you  a  little  string  of  pearls,  child,"  she 
said,  "  but  you  have  far  more  beautiful  jewels,  and  they 
go  better  with  your  frock." 

"  They  are  garnets,"  said  Esther,  "  and  Hilda's  gift  to 
me.  I  should  like  to  wear  them." 

"Garnets!"  said  the  old  lady,  peering  closely.     "They 


154  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

are  no  garnets.  Take  off  the  collar  till  I  see  it  in  the 
light." 

I  felt  much  abashed,  for  if  the  things  were  mere  glass 
the  pleasure  of  my  gift  to  Esther  would  be  gone.  Lady 
O'Brien  turned  them  this  way  and  that  way. 

"H'mph!  garnets  indeed!"  she  cried  contemptuously. 
"  They  are  rubies,  and  exceedingly  fine  ones,  if  I  know 
anything  about  it  There  won't  be  a  woman  there  to- 
night with  finer  jewels.  I'm  only  afraid  they're  too  fine 
for  a  girl." 

Then  Esther  turned  to  me,  and  said  that  if  the  stones 
were  indeed  rubies  that  they  must  be  mine  and  not  hers; 
but  I  laughed  at  her,  for  to  my  mind  and  my  love  Esther 
is  far  above  rubies,  and  I  told  her  so. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  continue  the  discussion,  for 
just  then  the  page-boy  knocked  at  the  door  to  say  that 
the  carriage  was  round ;  and  Lady  O'Brien  took  the  cloak 
and  wrapped  Esther  in  it  with  great  tenderness,  as  if  she 
were  her  own  child. 

I  noticed  the  pleasure  and  the  gratitude  shining  in 
Esther's  eyes,  and  said  to  myself  that  she  would  not 
refuse  to  become  Lady  O'Brien's  adopted  child. 

What  excitement  there  was  at  Brandon,  where  the 
twins  sat  demurely  on  chairs  against  the  wall  of  the  big 
bare  drawing-room,  and  the  boys  stood  on  the  rug  pre- 
tending to  feel  bored,  and  Aline  leant  on  the  edge  of 
Pierce's  wheeled  sofa,  which  had  been  brought  in,  all 
waiting  for  Esther's  appearance!  And  peeping  in  at  the 
door  were  Oona  and  her  handmaidens. 


CINDERELLA.  155 

I  stood  by  the  door,  and  whisked  off  Esther's  cloak  as 
she  entered.  I  heard  the  twins'  rapturous  groan  of 
delight,  and  the  murmur  of  admiration  from  the  others, 
and  felt  a  share  in  Esther's  triumph.  Withal,  she  looked 
so  sweet  and  modest,  that  we  all  felt  she  would  never  be 
spoilt  by  the  world  or  its  vain  praises. 

"But  the  frock!"  said  Aline,  bewildered. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  said  Lady  O'Brien,  who  had  a  bright 
spot  of  excitement  in  each  cheek,  "  that  is  a  little  liberty 
of  mine;  and  nothing  at  all  to  what  I  shall  be  taking 
presently,  nothing  at  all,  my  dear!" 

"  Come  home  early  to-morrow,  Essie,"  we  cried,  as  the 
carriage  drove  off,  "  and  tell  us  all  about  the  ball." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  ROMAUNT  OF  THE   ROSE. 

WE  expected  Esther  quite  early  in  the  morning  to 
tell  us  how  she  liked  the  world,  but  the  morning- 
hours  passed,  and  lunch-time,  and  still  she  had  not  come. 

However,  just  as  little  Annie  was  carrying  in  the  big 
tea-tray — which  the  robust  appetites  of  the  younger 
Brandons  demand — to  Aline's  room,  we  heard  the  little 
pony-carriage  drive  up,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  we  were 
welcoming  our  Cinderella  home  from  the  ball.  Esther 
certainly  looked  a  very  different  person  from  the  radiant 
princess  of  last  night.  Our  winter  jackets  have  grown 
rather  threadbare,  without  any  great  hope  of  new  ones, 
and  Esther's  seemed  to  show  unusually  thin  and  skimpy 
in  the  western  light  which  was  pouring  in  on  the  tea- 
table  and  its  hissing  urn  and  pile  of  hot  cream-cakes. 

"  Well,"  said  Lady  O'Brien  emphatically,  as  she  seated 
herself,  "  I  have  brought  the  belle  of  the  ball  to  see  you. 
Congratulate  her,  my  dears!" 

Esther  blushed,  and  we  all  laughed,  knowing  Lady 
O'Brien's  way;  but  the  old  lady  was  in  earnest  this  time. 

"  I  assure  you  there  hasn't  been  such  execution  since  I 


THE   ROMAUNT  OF  THE   ROSE.  157 

came  out  myself  at  the  very  same  Hunt  Ball,  and  the 
next  morning  there  were  no  less  than  three  challenges 
over  the  last  dance  I  had  to  give.  Ah!  my  dears,  there  are 
no  such  men  nowadays,  as  I'm  never  tired  of  saying.  Sir 
Con  O'Doherty  winged  Counsellor  Slattery,  and  poor  Tom 
Kinsella  went  with  a  ball  in  his  knee  from  that  day.  And 
to  think  I  passed  them  all  by  for  Peter,  that  sat  mum- 
chance  in  a  corner  and  hadn't  the  spunk  to  approach  me 
for  a  dance.  All  the  better  it  was,  for  if  he  had  he'd 
have  torn  my  Limerick  flounce  in  flitters,  and  that's 
something  I'd  never  have  forgiven." 

She  stopped  to  take  breath,  and  Pierce  put  in: 

"  I  hope  Essie's  been  spilling  no  blood,  Lady  O'Brien." 

"  Only  heart's  blood,  my  dear  boy.  It's  all  that's  ever 
spilt  now,  more's  the  pity." 

"  I  suppose  in  your  day  they  tapped  the  less  important 
organs.  You  talk  as  if  the  seat  of  life  were  somewhat 
less  important  than — the  nose,  shall  we  say?" 

"Hear  the  impudence  of  the  boy!"  cried  the  old  lady, 
diverted.  "I'll  be  after  tapping  your  nose,  my  fine  fellow, 
one  of  these  days,  if  you  give  me  any  of  your  sauce." 

"  Well,"  said  Aline,  coming  in,  "  I  hope  Essie  had  a  very 
nice  time." 

"It's  like  your  cold-bloodedness  to  put  it  that  way, 
Aline,"  said  the  old  lady;  "but  all  I  can  say  is  that  if 
Studderts  and  Ffrenches  and  Macnamaras  come  pro- 
posing for  Esther,  you  just  tell  them  that  they'll  have  to 
wait  till  she  sees  more  of  the  world  and  has  had  her  pick 
and  choice." 


158  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Poor  Essie!  is  she  to  become  a  worldling  then?"  said 
Aline,  with  a  fond  glance  at  Esther,  who  had  kept 
silence,  as  was  often  her  way,  while  we  all  chattered 
about  her. 

"You  haven't  taken  off  your  jacket,  dear.  Aren't  you 
hot?"  she  said,  noticing  that  Esther  still  wore  her  out- 
door things. 

Esther  looked  shyly  at  her  godmother. 

"Well,  Aline,  my  dear,"  said  the  latter,  "to  tell  you 
the  truth,  Esther's  not  going  to  take  off  her  jacket.  She 
has  promised,  unless  you  and  Pierce  forbid  it,  and  I  don't 
think  you  will,  to  try  what  life  is  like  with  a  cantanker- 
ous old  woman." 

"  What!     To  live  with  you,  Lady  O'Brien?" 

"Yes,  my  dear,  to  make  me  so  happy,  if  it  will  not 
mean  unhappiness  to  herself.  There  are  so  many  of  you 
here,  Aline,  and  I  am  a  lonely  old  woman  with  a  very 
thirsty  heart  for  a  little  girl  of  my  own." 

Aline  looked  at  Pierce. 

"  Esther  seems  to  have  consented,"  he  said,  glancing  at 
her  half -fearful  face.  "  Eh,  Essie?" 

"  Yes,  Pierce,"  Esther  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Well,  that  being  so,  Aline,  I  don't  think  it's  for  us  to 
forbid  it.  Esther's  old  enough  to  choose  for  herself." 

Lady  O'Brien  turned  round  and  gave  him  a  hug  which 
disarranged  all  his  pillows,  so  that  Aline  had  to  come 
and  shake  them  up  again.  As  she  did  so  I  noticed  that 
she  touched  Pierce's  face  lightly  with  her  cheek.  Per- 
haps Aline  felt  that  he  too  would  soon  be  going  away 


THE   ROMATJNT  OF  THE   ROSE.  159 

from  her — a  longer  journey  than  across  the  valley  to 
Annagower.  When  she  had  arranged  him  comfortably 
in  silence  she  came  back  to  her  seat  behind  the  tea-table. 

"Very  well,  dear  friend,"  she  said,  "there  is  nothing  for 
us  to  do  but  to  thank  you  and  say  yes.  But  Esther  will 
need  some  preparation." 

"None — all  that  is  my  affair,  Aline.  If  you  could 
know  how  I  have  longed  to  dress  a  girl." 

So  Esther  never  took  off  her  jacket  at  all,  but  sat  there 
like  a  visitor  paying  an  afternoon  call,  crumbling  her 
cake  into  her  saucer  absent-mindedly. 

But  she  was  not  going  to  leave  me  like  that.  I  went 
over  to  her  and  put  my  arm  round  her  neck. 

"  Come  for  one  more  talk,  Essie,"  I  whispered,  "  while 
you  are  still  ours  and  not  Lady  O'Brien's." 

For  I  don't  think  any  of  them  felt  Esther's  going  as  I 
did.  We  had  always  been  so  closely  knit  together,  as 
close  as  the  twins,  or  Aline  and  Pierce,  and  though  of  late 
the  tie  had  been  loosening  a  little,  yet  I  had  never  felt 
that  it  could  fray  or  grow  thin.  She  came  without  a 
word. 

When  we  had  reached  our  own  room  upstairs  we  sat 
down  on  my  bed  side  by  side  and  twined  our  arms  about 
each  other.  So  we  sat  in  silence  for  several  minutes.  At 
last  Esther  whispered  in  my  ear,  in  her  low  passionate 
voice : 

"  We  shall  never  be  less  to  each  other,  Hilda, — never, 
never.  Never,  till  all  the  seas  run  dry." 

But  she  was  going  away,  and  I  felt  that  things  would 


160  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

not  be  quite  the  same  again,  and  so  I  felt  I  could  not 
speak,  but  a  few  very  bitter  tears — for  I  do  not  cry  easily 
— came  into  my  eyes,  smarting  and  burning  them. 

"  You  will  be  happy,  Essie,"  I  said,  "  and  your  happi- 
ness is  what  really  matters.  And  you  will  make  that 
dear  old  soul  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long." 

"Happy?"  she  said,  answering  the  first  part  of  my 
sentence  and  not  the  last,  "  I  do  not  know  about  happi- 
ness, Hilda.  My  dear  old  godmother  would  buy  me  the 
world  if  she  could, but  happiness  may  be  beyond  her  reach." 

There  was  something  in  the  way  she  said  it  that 
alarmed  me,  and  stirred  all  my  late  misgivings  about 
Esther. 

"There  is  nothing,  Esther?"  I  whispered.  "You  are 
not  in  trouble,  dear?" 

She  looked  at  me  half-startled. 

"  I  spoke  generally,  Hilda.     Every  one  has  trouble." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ? "  said  I ;  but  my  mind  was  not  the 
more  at  rest.  Still,  I  did  not  want  to  surprise  Esther's 
trust.  I  drew  myself  a  little  away  from  her  as  I  asked 
in  a  sprightlier  voice: 

"  And  the  ball,  Essie.  Were  you  really  so  brilliant  a 
success  as  her  ladyship  says  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it  now 
that  we  are  here  quietly  by  ourselves." 

"Oh,  the  ball!"  answered  Esther,  coming  back  as  from 
a  distant  country.  "  Yes,  it  was  very  fine,  and  every  one 
was  so  kind.  Even  Lord  Cahirduff  would  dance  with 
me,  though  he  has  gout  in  his  knee,  and  Lady  Cahirduff, 
who  is  such  a  handsome  woman,  with  gray  hair  and 


THE  ROMAUNT  OF  THE  ROSE.  161 

bright  eyes,  said  she  couldn't  make  out  how  it  was  we 
were  such  strangers,  that  she  had  known  our  mother 
well,  and  asked  if  she  might  call.  But  Lady  O'Brien 
said  she  was  to  come  to  Annagower  one  day,  Tuesday,  I 
think.  Lord  Cahirduff  is  such  a  dear  old  man,  and  pays 
such  handsome  compliments,  and  Lady  O'Brien  and  he 
kept  up  a  fire  of  jokes,  and  Lady  O'Brien  seemed  to 
like  him  very  much,  for  she  slapped  him  with  her  fan 
several  times,  and  called  him  an  impudent  fellow,  just  as 
she  does  Pierce." 

"Of  course,"  said  I,  "he  was  one  of  her  early  lovers, 
and  remained  single  for  her  sake  years  after  she  married 
Sir  Peter.  But  the  young  men,  Essie?" 

"  I  will  show  you  my  programme,"  said  Esther,  pro- 
ducing it,  very  crumpled,  from  her  pocket.  "  The  young 
men  were  very  pleasant,  and  I  could  have  danced  every 
dance  many  times  over.  The  girls,  too,  were  very  pretty 
and  beautifully  dressed,  and  there  were  many  I  thought 
I  should  like  to  know.  The  only  one  who  was  not 
nice  was  that  horrid  little  Miss  Pettigrew.  Do  you  re- 
member her,  Hilda,  that  day  long  ago  at  Annagassan 
Races  ?  Well,  she  spoke  to  me  once  when  I  sat  near  her, 
resting  from  a  dance,  and  was  by  way  of  being  very 
polite,  but  I  couldn't  respond  very  cordially.  She  didn't 
seem  to  know  many  ladies,  I  thought,  though  she  had 
plenty  of  partners." 

"  I  daresay,"  said  I,  carelessly ;  "  but  she's  not  worth 
talking  about.  I  see  a  great  many  initials  here.  Which 
of  your  partners  did  you  like  the  best?" 

(  M  436 )  li 


162  THE   HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

Esther  blushed. 

"  They  were  all  very  pleasant,  dear  Hilda,"  she  said. 
And  then,  with  a  little  jerk  of  the  voice,  as  if  she  did 
herself  violence  in  speaking: 

"  Mr.  De  Lacy  was  there  too,  Hilda." 

"Oh,  was  he?"  said  I.  "I  was  just  thinking  that  the 
frequent  '  De  L. '  here  stood  for  him.  And  how  is  he, 
Essie?" 

"  He  did  not  look  well,  Hilda,  though  he  said  he  was 
well.  Those  internal  hurts  take  long  to  heal,  and  then 
it  must  be  horrible  for  him  at  Angry,  horrible." 

"  It  is  plucky  of  him  to  stay  there  when  he  might  be 
with  his  dear  old  grandfather  in  Warwickshire." 

"  Yes,  isn't  it  ?     I  think  it  noble  of  him,  Hilda." 

"  He  asked  for  us  all?" 

"Yes,  most  affectionately.  He  thought  of  everyone. 
He  asked  me  if  I  thought  Aline  would  ever  withdraw 
her  denial  of  Brandon  to  him.  She  might,  Hilda,  don't 
you  think?  It  would  be  only  kindness,  seeing  how 
alone  he  is  and  young,  and  ill  fitted  for  what  he  has  to 
endure." 

"  If  he  were  our  friend,  Essie,  he  might  have  harder 
things  to  bear." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Hilda?" 

"You  cannot  guess?" 

Suddenly  Esther  turned  from  me  and  hid  her  face  in 
her  hands.  Her  shoulders  began  to  heave  up  and  down, 
and  a  heavy  sob  broke  from  her.  It  struck  me  suddenly 
that  this  was  the  weeping  of  one  used  to  a  burden.  The 


THE  ROMAUNT  OF  THE  ROSE.  163 

tears  flowed  very  fast  as  if  they  had  been  held  back  for  a 
long  time,  and  the  sobbing  went  on  with  a  quiet  patience 
that  brought  a  pain  into  my  own  heart. 

"Poor  Essie!"  I  said,  "poor  Essie!"  and  then  I  put  my 
arms  about  her,  and  let  her  cry  her  fill. 

"Oh,  Hilda!"  she  whispered  at  last,  "he  looks  so  ill, 
and  I  cannot  bear  it.  They  will  kill  him,  and  I  shall  die 
too." 

"When  did  it  all  begin,  Esther?"  I  whispered  back 
again. 

"The  first  minute  we  saw  each  other,  I  think.  But 
he  went  away  without  speaking,  and  yet  he  knew  I 
loved  him,  and  I  knew  he  loved  me.  It  is  love  for  ever 
with  both  of  us,  Hilda." 

"You  haven't  been  meeting  him,  Esther?" 

"Oh,  no!  you  don't  think  I  could?  Not  secretly,  and 
within  Brandon  walls.  If  I  met  him  I  should  tell  every- 
body. But  I'll  tell  you  how  it  happened.  You  know 
your  hiding-place  in  the  abbey,  of  which  you  gave  me 
the  secret?" 

"My  tree?     Yes." 

"  Well,  I  used  to  go  there  after  he  left,  where  I  could 
be  quiet  and  think.  You  were  keeping  the  house  at  the 
time  with  a  cold,  so  I  was  undisturbed.  And  the  second 
day  I  was  there  I  saw  him  riding  by,  looking  so  sad  and 
delicate.  He  did  not  seem  fit  to  be  on  horseback  at  all. 
And  while  I  was  looking  down  at  him,  he  looked  up  and 
saw  me.  I  didn't  show  myself,  indeed,  Hilda.  It  was 
as  if  he  felt  I  was  there,  and  obliged  me  to  show  my 


164  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

face.  I  was  wearing  one  of  those  pale  monthly  roses  in 
my  frock,  and  he  halted  under  the  tree  and  looked  up  at 
me,  and  called  out,  '  Give  me  your  rose,  Esther,  and  I 
shall  understand'.  And  I  threw  the  rose  to  him.  You 
should  have  seen  his  face  as  he  caught  it.  But  I 
wouldn't  stay  to  speak.  I  swung  myself  down  from  the 
tree,  and  ran  away  as  fast  as  ever  I  could.  After  that 
it  came  by  degrees  that  I  used  to  be  there  most  days  to 
see  him  pass  by,  and  every  day  I  gave  him  a  rose,  and  if 
it  happened  that  I  could  not  be  there  at  that  hour,  I 
used  to  go  early  and  leave  the  rose  in  the  abbey  window 
where  he  could  find  it" 

"  And  was  the  rose  all?    Did  you  never  speak?" 

"He  used  to  say  a  word  or  two  sometimes,  but  I 
would  not  wait  to  listen.  I  knew  he  loved  me,  and  just 
then  Aline  was  so  troubled  about  Pierce,  and  I  could  not 
bear  to  deceive  her.  I  would  have  felt  the  deception  a 
stain  on  our  love." 

"And  it  went  no  further  than  the  rose?" 

"  No.     Was  it  very  bad,  Hilda?" 

"  It  was  superhumanly  good,  Esther.  But  I  am  glad 
you  were  so  good.  However,  you  talked  last  night?" 

"  He  said  a  great  many  things  which  I  had  always 
known,"  she  said,  her  cheeks  all  one  soft  fire. 

"Well,  Essie  dear,"  I  said  consolingly, — during  her 
recital  the  tears  had  dried  themselves  away  on  her  hot 
cheeks, — "  we  must  only  hope  for  the  best.  Of  course 
it's  a  pity  you  should  have  selected  the  grandson  of  the 
hereditary  enemy  to  fall  in  love  with,  but,  as  a  matter  of 


THE  ROMAUNT  OF  THE  ROSE.  165 

Christianity,  there's  no  reason  why  the  feud  shouldn't 
lie  with  Sir  Rupert  in  his  grave.  He  made  it,  and  I 
don't  see  why  it  shouldn't  end  with  him.  And  then  it 
would  be  a  pretty  bit  of  poetical  justice  if  his  heir  should 
marry  one  of  the  family  he  has  impoverished." 

"Marry!"  cried  Esther;  "I  had  not  thought  about 
marrying!" 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  had,"  said  I,  "  but  those  things 
generally  end  that  way.  All  the  same,  I  daresay  it's  as 
well  you  shouldn't  think  about  it  just  yet,  for  I've  no 
doubt  that  the  fact  that  Sir  Rupert  is  still  alive  will 
indefinitely  postpone  it." 

"  I  should  be  satisfied,"  said  Esther,  with  one  of  her 
enraptured  looks,  "just  to  know  that  he  loved  me,  and 
that  things  were  well  with  him.  I  think  I  should  be 
happy  so,  if  I  were  never  to  see  him." 

I  kissed  her  for  answer.  Dear  Esther,  she  was  always 
one  to  give  up  all  and  never  count  the  cost. 

"  Now,  bathe  your  face  and  come  down,"  I  said,  after  a 
few  minutes,  "or  Lady  O'Brien  will  think  I  have  kid- 
napped you.  By  the  way,  you  will  tell  Aline  that  you 
met  young  De  Lacy  at  the  ball?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Esther;  "or  will  you,  Hilda?  I 
should  be  afraid  of  betraying  myself." 

"  I  daresay  your  godmother  will  save  us  the  trouble," 
I  suggested. 

And,  sure  enough,  when  we  went  downstairs  the  first 
name  we  heard  from  Lady  O'Brien's  lips  was  De  Lacy. 
Fortunately  the  room  was  full  of  dusk  and  firelight  by 


166  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

this  time,  so  that  the  mantling  colour  which  I  felt  sure 
Esther  wore  was  invisible. 

"  I'm  inclined  to  agree  with  you,"  Pierce  was  saying 
as  we  went  in.  "  If  I'd  been  here  I  should  hardly  have 
backed  up  Aline  in  shutting  the  door  against  the  lad. 
He  had  right  on  his  side  when  he  refused  to  be  made  an 
enemy  on  his  grandfather's  account." 

"  He's  a  throw-back,  as  his  father  was  before  him," 
said  Lady  O'Brien,  "or  how  does  a  De  Lacy  come  by 
those  gentle  eyes  and  delicate  ways?  It  makes  him  less 
of  a  match  for  old  Rupert." 

"Still,  he  has  plenty  of  courage,"  said  Aline,  "or  he 
wouldn't  be  shut  up  in  Angry  with  those  two  wicked  old 
men." 

"Indeed,  then,  'tis  no  place  for  him,"  asserted  Lady 
O'Brien.  "  And  more  betoken,  he  is  going  to  have  the 
run  of  my  drawing-room,  I  can  tell  you." 

I  saw  a  quick  look  of  alarm  in  Aline's  face.  If  that 
speech  had  been  uttered  before  she  had  consented  to 
Esther's  going,  her  consent  would  have  been  harder  to 
extract.  But  now  it  was  too  late  to  withdraw,  and  so 
poor  Aline,  with  a  melancholy  visage,  said  good-bye  to 
the  sister  whom  we  should  see  constantly,  but  who  had 
nevertheless  gone  out  of  our  house  and  our  home,  for 
ever  in  all  probability.  Such  partings,  even  in  the 
happiest  circumstances,  are  sad  things. 

That  night,  as  I  was  going  to  bed,  Aline  came  in  and 
kissed  me  with  unusual  fervour. 

"Ah,   little   Hilda,"   she   said,  "we  are  beginning  to 


THE  ROMAUNT  OF  THE  ROSE.  167 

dwindle!"  and  I  knew  she  had  it  in  her  mind  of  who 
would  be  the  next  to  go. 

"But  it  is  good  for  Esther,"  I  said,  though  my  own 
heart  was  full  of  tears. 

"Yes,  Lady  O'Brien  has  already  provided  for  her. 
Sir  Peter's  money  returns  to  his  family,  but  she  has  a 
comfortable  sum  to  live  on  in  her  own  right.  So  that 
two  of  the  children  are  now  safe  out  of  the  clutches  of 
poverty — Freda  and  Esther.  We  who  are  left  ought 
not  to  repine." 

If  there  was  anything  else  at  her  heart  she  did  not 
speak  of  it  to  me  that  night. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

PIERCE   GOES   ON   A  JOURNEY. 

rilHAT  winter  was  a  very  quiet  and  a  very  sad  one. 
J-  As  the  days  passed  we  felt  the  wings  of  death 
brooding  closer  over  the  house.  Little  by  little  Pierce 
had  given  up  the  ways  of  one  who  was  to  live,  had  given 
up  his  bath-chair  which  was  Lady  O'Brien's  present,  and 
the  sofa  in  Aline's  room,  and  the  coming  downstairs.  We 
knew  now  that  he  would  come  down  no  more  till  he  was 
carried  down,  and  we  dreaded  the  spring  that  would 
bring  further  weakness  to  our  beloved  invalid,  and  the 
summer  that  would  take  him  from  us. 

He  liked  to  get  up  about  noon  and  lie  on  a  sofa  drawn 
near  the  fire  and  have  us  to  talk  to  him,  and  as  the  days 
turned  towards  the  spring  he  lay  by  the  window  where 
he  could  see  the  cloudiness  coming  on  the  bare  boughs 
and  Brandon  turning  bronze  and  pink  in  the  fresh  cold 
air. 

What  his  room  became  in  those  days  I  never  could 
tell.  Whatever  had  befallen  our  Pierce  out  in  the  world, 
and  he  carried  the  secret  with  him  to  the  grave,  he  had 
saved  his  soul  triumphantly  out  of  it.  To  see  him  there 


PIERCE   GOES   ON   A   JOURNEY.  169 

dying  in  the  flush  of  his  youth,  so  resigned,  so  gentle,  so 
merry  even,  clutched  at  our  hearts.  He  prayed  inces- 
santly when  he  was  alone  or  quiet,  and  in  those  latter 
days  he  came  to  have  visibly  the  light  of  God's  counten- 
ance upon  his  face.  His  room  was  like  the  cell  of  a 
saint  to  which  we  went  for  help,  and  comfort,  and  re- 
freshment. Once  when  Aline  and  I  canne  out  together 
she  suddenly  caught  at  me  and  began  to  sob  silently 
against  my  shoulder,  yet  in  the  midst  of  her  anguish  she 
whispered  to  me: 

"  Oh,  Hilda,  I  wouldn't  keep  him  if  I  could!  I  can  see 
that  he  is  ripe  for  heaven.  And  yet,  and  yet,  it  breaks 
my  heart  to  see  him  so  glad  to  go." 

All  this  put  Esther's  love  affairs  greatly  out  of  my 
mind.  Daily  she  and  her  godmother  drove  over  to  see 
how  Pierce  was,  and  to  sit  with  him  a  little.  When  his 
voice  had  sunk  almost  to  a  whisper  he  still  tried  to  keep 
up  the  old  merry  banter  with  the  friend  who  had  been  so 
good  to  him  and  us,  and  I  have  seen  the  dear  old  woman 
respond  bravely  while  the  big  tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

Once  when  she  had  had  to  go  away  to  conceal  her 
emotion,  she  said  to  Aline: 

"  Tis  not  tears  of  sorrow,  my  dear,  I'm  giving  him,  'tis 
only  that  it  dazzles  my  sinful  old  eyes  to  have  sight  of 
one  of  God's  saints  passing.  Hush,  now,  my  dear,  don't 
be  grudging  him  his  joy.  'Tis  for  you  who  love  him  to 
be  glad  for  him." 

"  But  he  is  so  young  to  die,"  said  poor  Aline,  "  and  he 
and  I  were  to  have  been  always  together." 


170  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Ah,  my  child,"  responded  the  old  woman  with  a 
sudden  intuition,  "  you  might  have  lost  him  more  cruelly! 
Don't  you  see  that  he's  had  some  trouble,  young  as  he 
is,  that  has  just  ended  his  life  for  him.  And  kinder  so. 
He  wasn't  one  to  grow  hard  and  wicked,  nor  yet  was  he 
one  to  live  carrying  a  dead  heart  about  with  him  the 
rest  of  his  days.  Indeed,  indeed,  God  gave  him  the 
better  part." 

"Oh,"  said  Aline,  "you  think  he  has  had  a  great 
sorrow  ? " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  child,  but  maybe  it  was  just  through 
that  same  sorrow  that  God  gathered  him." 

"  Yet  let  him  keep  the  rest 
But  keep  them  with  repining  restlessness: 
Let  him  be  rich  and  weary,  that  at  least, 
If  goodness  lead  him  not,  yet  weariness 
May  toas  him  to  my  breast" — 

I  said  softly  from  my  corner,  where  they  had  not  seemed 
to  notice  me. 

Lady  O'Brien  turned  round  sharply. 

"  That's  it,  Hilda,  that's  it.  Your  poetry  has  said  it  a 
thousand  times  better  than  I  ever  could." 

Esther,  during  these  visits,  would  sit  on  the  floor  by 
Pierce,  and  now  and  again  would  lay  her  cheek  to  his 
hand. 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  him,  Hilda,"  she  said  once,  "  but 
I  can't  trouble  him  now.  If  all  were  well  with  us  it 
would  be  another  matter,  but  I  must  not  bring  trouble 
near  him.  And  yet  his  touch  comforts  me." 


PIERCE   GOES   ON   A  JOURNEY.  171 

Esther's  fears  now  were  mainly  concerned  with  her 
lover's  health.  Her  experience  of  Pierce  had  taught  her 
to  look  for  the  signs  and  tokens  of  illness,  and  sometimes 
she  came  to  me  in  a  paroxysm  of  terror  because  she 
thought  Harry  De  Lacy  looked  frailer  than  when  last 
she  had  seen  him,  or  because  she  had  heard  him  cough, 
or  noted  the  transparency  of  his  hand  against  the  light. 

He  was  not  an  over-frequent  visitor  at  Annagower, 
not  more  so  than  many  other  gentlemen,  and  as  yet  the 
understanding  between  him  and  Esther  was  not  a  formal 
one.  She  could  not,  she  said,  in  these  sad  days,  trouble 
anyone  about  her  affairs,  and  it  was  better  that  he  should 
be  very  patient  and  not  come  too  often,  nor  try  to  force 
things  to  a  conclusion. 

"If  I  had  him  to  nurse  and  feed  up  and  take  care  of, 
everything  would  be  well,"  she  used  to  say;  "but  now 
I  fear  that  he  will  stay  at  Angry,  only  to  die  there.  I 
wish  he  would  go  back  to  Warwickshire  and  grow 
strong.  I  could  bear  absence,  silence,  anything,  if  I  had 
not  this  dreadful  fear." 

"  Except  separation,"  I  suggested. 

"  Only  death  could  bring  that  about,"  said  Esther 
solemnly.  "  If  he  were  to  leave  me,  and  I  were  to  hear 
nothing  from  him,  I  should  know  that  he  was  dead." 

The  trouble  that  was  brooding  over  us  seemed  to  bind 
us  Brandons  more  closely.  The  poor  boys  were  always 
hanging  about  with  wistful  faces  that  spring,  wanting  to 
do  something  to  help  if  they  could.  They  used  to  come 
into  Pierce's  room  and  sit  down  with  a  great  parade  of 


172  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

not  creaking  or  making  noise,  and  soften  their  rough 
young  voices  to  a  hoarse  whisper  as  they  addressed  him. 
I  have  seen  the  old  humour  flash  into  Pierce's  sunken 
eyes  as  he  looked  at  them,  humour  oddly  blent  with  im- 
mense tenderness.  Then  out  of  sheer  kindness  he  would 
send  them  off  fishing  or  shooting,  with  an  expressed 
desire  for  a  trout  or  a  quail,  for  which,  when  they 
arrived,  he  had  no  appetite. 

The  twins,  too,  proved  themselves  little  hearts  of  gold. 
They  would  bring  in  their  treasures  from  garden  and 
woodland  to  show  to  Pierce — early  primroses,  or  a  group 
of  tall  daffodils,  or  a  mass  of  wild  hyacinths;  —  such 
things  brought  to  him  by  his  shy  little  sisters  seemed  to 
give  him  great  pleasure.  He  would  stroke  their  brown 
heads  and  tell  them  to  be  very  good  to  Aline,  and  then 
would  watch  them  fondly  while  they  sat  before  the  fire, 
their  two  heads  bent  over  one  book,  till  he  fell  asleep. 

At  Easter  Freda  came  for  a  week.  We  thought  she 
would  have  waited  for  the  end,  though  that  was  not  a 
thought  we  put  into  words  for  each  other,  but  it  seemed 
strange  that  she  could  not  stay  by  Pierce  as  long  as  we 
kept  his  precious  body  on  the  earth. 

Yet  she  seemed  to  care  as  much  as  any  of  us,  and 
hardly  left  Pierce's  room  during  that  week. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  the  child,"  Aline  said  to  me  as  if  she 
would  excuse  her.  "  We  can't  be  expected  to  understand 
how  a  mother's  heart  drags  her  back  to  where  her  child 
is." 

"Yet  I  should  think,"  I  said,  "that  she  might  have 


PIERCE   GOES   ON   A   JOURNEY.  173 

trusted  him  to  Mrs.  Vincent  for  a  while,  so  that  she 
might  stay  with  Pierce  while  .  .  .  while — " 

And  here  I  broke  off  with  a  sob  and  went  out  of  the 
room. 

But  I  was  present  when  Freda  and  Pierce  said  good- 
bye, at  least  for  the  beginning  of  their  parting. 

Freda  had  come  in  with  her  hat  on,  and  looked  very 
pale,  I  noticed,  but  tearless.  She  knelt  down  by  Pierce, 
and  I  heard  her  say: 

"I  have  to  go,  darling.  You  know,  darling,  that  I 
must  go,  though  it  is  breaking  my  heart  to  leave  you 
now." 

"I  know,  Freda,"  he  said,  "and  it  has  been  good  to 
have  had  you  this  week.  Good-bye,  my  dearest !  When 
I  am  gone  you  will  have  two  instead  of  one  in  that  dis- 
tant country." 

I  saw  Freda  wring  her  hands.  Then  I  got  up  and 
went  out  of  the  room.  I  thought  it  best  to  leave  them 
together. 

So  Freda  went  away,  and  though  we  said  nothing, 
Aline,  I  am  sure,  felt  a  little  chill  at  her  heart  against 
her  that  she  could  go.  Yet,  having  seen  the  trouble  in 
her  face,  I  could  not  judge  her.  There  must  be  reasons 
that  we  did  not  know. 

But  when  Lady  O'Brien  broached  the  subject  I  did 
not  know  how  to  answer  her. 

"  I  don't  want,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  to  be  prying  and 
impertinent,  and  I  can't  think  badly  of  a  Brandon;  yet, 
how  is  it  that  your  sister  couldn't  stay  to  see  the  last  of 


174  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

that  dear  saint,  and  to  be  a  comfort  to  poor  Aline  when 
the  time  comes?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Lady  O'Brien,"  I  answered  truth- 
fully. 

"And  why  didn't  you  ask  her,  my  dear?" 

Yes;  the  old  lady  was  right.  Why  hadn't  we  asked 
Freda  to  solve  for  us  the  mystery  that  had  somehow 
grown  up  about  her.  It  would  have  been  the  simplest 
thing  to  do,  and  might  have  saved  us  the  wondering  pain 
that  was  in  our  hearts  when  we  thought  of  her. 

"  It  is  what  we  ought  to  have  done,  Lady  O'Brien,"  I 
assented.  "  But  one  thing  I  can  assure  you  of,  Freda  is 
not  hard-hearted.  If  you  had  seen  her  face  as  I  did, 
when  she  said  good-bye  to  Pierce,  you  would  be  as  sure 
as  I  am." 

I  have  always  heard  that  consumptives  take  it  hard  to 
die.  Looking  back  now  on  those  days,  I  thank  God  that 
it  was  not  so  with  Pierce.  He  seemed  to  have  foreseen 
every  step  of  the  way,  and  to  be  prepared  to  endure  it  all 
joyfully — the  night-sweats,  and  the  fevers,  and  the  ex- 
haustion, and  the  terrible,  terrible  difficulty  of  breathing. 
He  never  complained,  and  his  only  distress  seemed  to  be 
that  it  caused  pain  to  those  he  loved  so  dearly. 

The  month  of  May  turned  round  in  a  glorious  succes- 
sion of  scented  days  and  silver  nights.  The  end  was 
very  near  now,  and  Aline  was  sitting  up  at  nights  with 
Pierce.  It  was  a  duty  she  would  yield  to  no  one,  and 
even  Oona  forbore  to  press  her,  for  we  felt  that  she 
could  not  endure  to  be  away  from  him  a  minute  longer 


PIERCE   GOES   ON   A  JOURNEY.  175 

than  she  could  help,  and  they  were  to  be  together  so 
short  a  time. 

I  could  not  sleep  those  nights.  The  moon  was  so 
brilliant,  and  the  scent  of  hawthorn  and  lilac  so  ravishing, 
and  all  night  the  corncrake  sawed  incessantly  in  the 
ripening  grasses.  So  I  often  kept  vigil  with  Aline  and 
Pierce,  though  they  did  not  know  it. 

I  used  to  sit  on  the  top  step  of  the  stairs  from  the  great 
hall  of  Brandon,  round  the  gallery  of  which  many  doors 
open.  One  at  the  stair-head  opened  into  Pierce's  room, 
and  sitting  there  huddled  in  my  dressing-gown  I  could 
hear  his  laboured  breathing,  and  sometimes  the  soft 
murmur  of  Aline's  voice  as  she  spoke  to  him,  or  her  quiet 
movements  as  she  went  to  and  fro  in  the  room. 

I  sat  there  sometimes  till  well  into  the  dawn.  Over 
my  head  the  great  hall  window  held  the  east,  and  through 
its  colours  the  sunrise  came  magnificently. 

I  was  sitting  there  one  night  with  my  head  in  my 
hands,  and  the  moonlight  was  casting  black  lozenges  on 
to  the  floor.  Everything  was  quiet  in  Pierce's  room,  save 
only  the  struggle  for  breath  that  went  on  incessantly. 
Suddenly  there  rang  through  the  night  outside  the  cry 
of  a  woman.  It  began  thin  as  an  ^lolian  harp,  and 
swelled  to  a  full  chord  of  passionate  lamentation.  It 
came  from  without,  but  it  seemed  to  ring  through  the 
old  house  and  beat  against  the  rafters  of  the  high  roof 
overhead. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  terrified,  and  with  a  wild  impulse 
to  fly  anywhere  for  human  companionship,  but  my 


176  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

fear  of  disturbing  the  dying  and  the  mourner  kept  me 
still. 

Again  the  wild  cry  rang  out,  more  piercing  and  heart- 
broken. I  looked  at  the  sick-room  door,  expecting  Aline 
to  appear,  but  all  was  quiet 

The  third  time  it  rang,  and  now  it  was  close  by  me, 
close  against  the  great  window.  I  lifted  my  eyes  in 
fascinated  terror,  and  for  a  moment  the  moonlight  was 
blotted  out.  Something  like  the  wings  of  a  great  bird, 
or  the  trailing  veil  of  a  woman,  passed  slowly  across  the 
panes.  Then  I  fell,  huddled  up,  with  my  head  against 
the  upper  step. 

When  I  came  to  myself  I  was  lying  on  my  own  bed, 
and  Oona  was  bathing  my  head  with  something  sharp 
and  aromatic.  The  gray  dawn  was  filling  the  room  like 
a  tide. 

"Oh,  Oona!"  I  cried;  "  what  was  it?  Did  you  hear  it, 
the  dreadful  thing?" 

"Whisht,  my  lamb!  I  heard  her.  Many's  the  time 
I've  heard  her  these  sorrowful  months.  But  she's  not 
dreadful,  my  jewel.  She  loves  every  one  of  ye,  and  'tis 
because  her  heart's  breaking  for  the  trouble  in  the  family 
that  she  cries  like  that." 

"They  didn't  hear,  Oona?"  I  asked,  with  a  new  fear. 

"  Not  a  sound.  Master  Pierce  was  asleep  when  I  went 
in,  an'  Miss  Aline,  poor  lamb,  was  sound  off,  with  her  head 
against  his  hand.  She's  wore  out,  sure  she  is.  I  didn't 
disturb  her.  '  Sleep,  my  honey,'  I  said,  for  I  knew  she'd 
need  all  her  strength  for  the  trouble  that's  so  close  at 


FIERCE   GOES   ON   A   JOURNEY.  177 

hand.  Why,  when  I  found  you  in  your  white  gown  I 
thought  'twas  you  was  the  banshee,  Miss  Hilda,  darling. 
There,  never  be  afraid  of  her.  Sure  she  loves  every  hair 
of  your  heads." 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  Pierce  died.  All 
through  the  day  he  had  been  dozing  quietly,  with  his 
hand  lying  in  Aline' s,  while  incessantly  she  dried  his  face 
with  a  handkerchief.  We  were  all  in  the  room,  including 
Esther,  who  had  been  sent  for,  all  huddled  about  miser- 
ably, some  of  us  weeping,  and  the  boys  manfully  trying 
to  keep  the  tears  out  of  sight. 

Now  and  again  Oona  would  steal  into  the  room,  and 
bring  one  or  another  away  for  food.  It  was  terrible 
waiting  there  for  the  end,  with  nothing  to  do  but  wait. 
At  every  least  sound  Pierce  would  start,  and  open  his 
eyes,  and  then  would  sink  off  again  into  a  stupor. 

We  were  troubled  about  Aline,  who  had  eaten  nothing. 
After  all  it  was  Hugh  who  persuaded  her.  He  brought 
some  nourishing  jelly  to  her,  and  when  she  shook  her 
head,  he  was  not  to  be  put  off  like  the  rest  of  us. 

"  Pierce  said  last  night  that  he  gave  you  to  me  to  take 
care  of,"  said  the  poor  boy  huskily,  and  as  he  said  it 
Pierce  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  at  him. 

"  You  are  the  head  of  the  house,"  he  said  slowly.  "You 
will  be  what  I  failed  in  being." 

Then  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  Aline  allowed  herself  to 
be  fed  by  spoonfuls  with  the  jelly. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Pierce  seemed  to 
rally.  He  looked  round  at  us  all  with  calm  seeing  eyes, 

(M436)  M 


178  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

and  seemed  to  know  us  quite  well.  His  lethargy  had 
passed  away  for  the  moment.  He  turned  to  Aline,  and 
looked  at  her  with  great  tenderness. 

"  I  wish  you  would  find  out  Desmond,"  he  said,  "  and 
let  him  know  that  I  loved  him  at  the  last,  and  that  I 
knew  he  was  right,  and  thanked  him." 

"  I  will  do  it,  Pierce,"  said  Aline. 

"  I  wanted  to  say  more,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  too  tired 
to  think" 

Then  he  smiled  on  us  all  round,  and  fell  asleep  smiling. 
We  thought  he  would  have  died  in  that  sleep,  but  he  did 
not.  The  clock  in  the  stable-yard  had  just  struck  five 
when  he  opened  his  eyes,  full  and  wide,  and  gazed  up- 
wards. 

"  Remember  me  ",  he  cried,  "  when  Thou  art  come  into 
Thy  kingdom." 

And  then  a  film  seemed  to  settle  on  the  brightness,  and 
the  light  slowly  faded  out. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

HONEY  AMONG  THE  ROSES. 

THAT  was  the  loneliest  summer  that  ever  I  remember. 
Soon  after  Pierce  had  left  us,  Lady  O'Brien  carried 
Aline  and  Esther  off  to  Kilkee.  Aline  bore  her  sorrow 
bravely,  with  more  hope  and  faith  than  we  had  dared  to 
expect;  but  if  you  have  been  building  all  your  thoughts 
and  cares  and  wishes  and  anxieties  about  one  human 
being  for  nearly  all  your  years,  and  then  you  are  bereft, 
the  empty  place  is  terrible.  Even  our  Lord  Himself 
endured  desolation,  and  He  does  not  spare  it  to  His 
creatures  though  He  walk  with  them  through  the 
shadows. 

There  had  been  some  talk  of  my  going  after  a  time, 
when  Aline  should  return.  Lady  O'Brien  had  taken  her 
cottage  till  the  end  of  September.  But  I  begged  her  to 
keep  Aline  and  let  me  stay  at  home, — I  knew  Aline's 
mind  would  be  at  rest  while  I  was  in  charge, — and  I  had 
my  wish. 

But,  oh,  the  unutterable  loneliness  of  it!  It  was  a 
beautiful  summer,  with  long,  long  days  of  haze  and  heat, 
and  evenings  that  trailed  themselves  out,  I  thought,  un- 


180  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

duly  long.  There  was  no  excuse  for  firelit  and  lamplit 
evenings.  By  the  time  the  moon  had  come  out  in  the 
green  sky,  and  the  last  wood-dove  had  gone  to  bed,  it 
was  time  for  me  to  follow. 

I  have  always  associated  the  call  of  the  wood-quest,  as 
we  call  it,  with  the  loneliness  of  that  summer.  As  the 
woods  grew  dark  with  their  prime,  and  the  love-songs  of 
the  blackbird  were  stilled,  that  lonely  complaint  of  the 
dove  seemed  to  brood  over  all  the  world.  The  children 
say  it  is  the  bird's  lament  for  the  smallness  of  her 
family. 

"  The  robin  and  the  wren  have  nine  and  ten, 
And  I  have  only  two — oo — oo." 

When  I  have  been  happy  her  note  has  sounded  as  though 
she  were  sweetly  in  love  with  her  own  melancholy,  but 
now,  how  lonely  it  was,  oh,  how  lonely! 

The  young  ones  were  always  out  and  about,  full  of  the 
multitudinous  occupations  of  country  children  in  summer. 
I  would  not  hamper  them  with  my  lagging  steps  or 
burden  them  with  my  melancholy,  so  that,  except  for 
Oona,  I  was  almost  always  alone.  And  she  was  not  cheer- 
ful. The  death  of  her  eldest  nursling  had  shaken  her 
sorely,  and  she  had  grown  feebler  and  was  usually  full 
of  forebodings  and  omens. 

But  for  my  writing  I  could  not  have  endured  the  lone- 
liness. I  scribbled  a  bit  in  those  long  days,  and  burnt 
much  of  what  I  scribbled,  but  what  I  retained  I  laid 
away  in  the  secret  cupboard  in  Aline's  room.  The  blessed 
thing  about  writing  is  that  we  must  give  it  everything 


HONEY  AMONG  THE  ROSES.  181 

for  the  time,  entire  absorption.  If  I  had  had  to  sit  and 
sew  a  seam,  I  think  my  heart  would  have  broken.  I 
started  my  novel,  Love  in  the  Valley,  some  time  that 
July,  and  it  progressed  more  to  my  satisfaction,  and 
with  less  destruction  of  manuscript,  than  anything  I 
had  hitherto  attempted.  I  love  the  book,  because  it 
helped  me  then,  more  than  any  of  its  successors.  People 
find  it  sad,  but  the  sadness  and  loneliness  of  youth  are 
of  the  most  monotonous  gray.  The  future  has  no  such 
illuminating  flashes  as  come  out  of  the  past. 

I  had  always  been  rather  starved  for  reading.  The 
Brandons  could  never  have  been  very  bookish  folk,  and 
it  is  not  possible  to  find  any  but  very  dry  provender  in 
the  mouldering  volumes  bound  in  calf  and  gold  which 
line  the  library.  Why,  a  whole  side  of  it  is  taken  up  by 
Transactions  of  the  Irish  Parliament,  wherein  many 
Brandons  sat;  and  many  of  the  later  volumes  are  records 
of  learned  societies  and  such  things.  The  little  amount 
of  literary  bread  to  this  vast  deal  of  sack  I  had  devoured 
long  ago. 

Well,  one  evening  in  August,  when  I  was  finding  my 
time  more  than  usually  heavy,  Oona  came  to  me  where 
I  sat  on  the  terrace  overlooking  the  rose-garden,  and 
longing  for  once  that  I  could  fly  out  into  the  world  where 
the  human  soul  need  not  walk  in  such  utter  loneliness. 
She  looked  quite  cheerful,  and  I  turned  to  her,  willing  to 
be  cheered. 

"  Miss  Hilda  dear,"  she  said,  "  I've  a  little  bit  of  news 
for  you.  Rose  Hill  is  open  again." 


182  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Indeed!"  said  I  languidly.     "  Who  has  taken  it?" 

"A  military  gentleman;  General  Hugh  MacNeill.  Oh, 
a  rale  good  Irish  stock,  though  his  family  has  lived  out 
of  the  country!" 

"I'm  glad  the  pretty  old  place  is  not  to  go  to  rack 
and  ruin  like  many  another." 

"  Oh,  they're  putting  the  finest  complexion  at  all  on  it! 
Thousands  of  painters  and  paper  men  in  it,  I  hear,  and 
the  most  elegant  of  furniture  come  down  from  Dublin. 
'Twill  be  a  sight  when  'tis  all  done." 

"  I  suppose  he  has  a  family,"  I  said,  more  by  way  of 
being  civil  to  Oona  than  anything  else,  for  I  didn't 
suppose  the  occupation  of  Rose  Hill  would  affect  us  any 
more  than  the  occupation  of  twenty  other  houses  in  the 
country. 

"  Sorra  one.  He's  an  ould  bachelor  gentleman,  or  a 
widdy  man — I  don't  rightly  know  which.  But  it  isn't 
about  him  I'm  thinking,  an'  he's  not  expected  this  good 
while  yet.  'Tis  a  visit  I'm  after  havin'  from  my  cousin, 
Mary  O'Connor.  She's  goin'  as  housekeeper.  I  believe 
'twas  Lady  O'Brien  gave  her  the  good  word,  for  the 
General  and  she's  ould  friends.  'Tis  glad  I  am  Mary's  in 
place  again,  an'  two  housemaids  an'  a  boy  under  her. 
It'll  be  new  life  to  her,  the  poor  woman,  to  have  them  to 
drive  over-an'-hither.  She  was  always  used  to  rulin' 
sarvants,  an'  a  fine  heavy  hand  over  them  she  has,  Miss 
Hilda  dear.  I'd  like  to  be  there  the  first  day  or  two  to 
hear  the  malavoguin'  Mary'll  give  them  with  her  tongue. 
They're  English,  more  betoken." 


HONEY  AMONG  THE  ROSES.  183 

Oona  seemed  as  heartened  up  by  Mary's  news  as  Mary 
could  be  herself,  and  I  was  cheered  insensibly  enough  to 
waken  up  to  a  certain  interest  in  her  tale. 

"  The  grandest  of  chaney  an'  ould  eccentricities  out  o' 
the  Aist.  Mary  says  there  is  haythen  gods  an'  goddesses 
that  hasn't  a  screed  on  them,  and  'ud  be  downright  on- 
decent,  only  they're  brute  bastes,  an'  silver  trays  as  big 
as  a  cart-wheel,  an'  little  houses — piggodys,  Mary  says 
they're  named — of  ivory,  an'  big  ould  elephant  tusks. 
There's  no  end  to  the  grandeur.  An'  Mary's  duty  to  you, 
Miss  Hilda,  an'  if  you'd  bring  over  the  little  ladies,  an' 
Master  Hugh  and  Master  Donald,  she  thinks  they'd  like 
to  see  the  ingenuities.  An'  proud  she'd  be  if  you'd  take 
a  cup  of  tea  afterwards." 

"  It  would  be  very  pleasant,  Oona,"  I  said,  "  if  you  are 
sure  there  would  be  no  danger  of  intrusion." 

"Sure  isn't  Mary  housekeeper,  an'  the  master  not 
expected  this  month  yet?  Let  alone  that  him  an'  Lady 
O'Brien's  ould  cronies,  an'  I  expect  yez'll  be  in  an'  out 
with  him,  like  a  dog  at  a  fair,  all  the  time  as  soon  as  he 
gets  settled." 

"Then  we  shall  certainly  go,  Oona,"  I  said.  "The 
twins  would  love  it,  I  know,  and  so  would  the  boys." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Hilda  dear!"  cried  Oona,  her  voice  changing 
to  one  of  tragic  supplication,  "all  I  ask  you  is  to  keep 
them  darlin'  boys  from  the  ould  swoords  an'  pistols  an' 
trumperies  that  Mary  says  has  come  down  by  the  cart- 
load. Sure  'tis  not  in  Nature  if  they  go  meddlin'  with 
them  that  they  won't  kill  aich  other  or  thimselves.  Let 


184  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

alone  that  some  o'  them  is  maybe  poisoned,  as  Mary  says, 
an'  a  scratch  o'  one  'ud  let  the  life  out  of  a  rig'mint." 

"  They'll  be  sensible,  Oona,  an'  not  meddle  with 
them." 

"  Indeed,  then,  an'  if  they  are  they  won't  be  like  any 
boy-flesh  I  ever  heard  tell  of.  Tis  as  natural  for  boys 
to  kill  thimselves  as  for  the  bird  to  fly.  There !  an'  you 
can't  have  'em  different.  The  Lord  made  them  so." 

The  next  day  the  party  of  us  went  over  to  Rose  Hill 
accompanied  by  Oona,  who  could  not  refrain  from  seeing 
the  "  ingenuities  "  as  well  as  ourselves,  though  she  put  it 
on  the  score  of  seeing  that  the  boys  and  the  twins  didn't 
get  into  mischief. 

Rose  Hill  is  built  on  the  side  of  a  little  ravine,  down 
which  it  looks  to  the  plain  and  the  distant  sea.  You 
ascend  to  it  through  a  tiny  wood,  and  you  look  down 
from  the  winding  pathway  upon  a  little  brown  trout- 
stream  in  the  valley  below.  The  house  is  fancifully 
built  with  balconies  and  green  outside  shutters,  and 
stands  but  two  stories,  to  the  second  of  which  you  ascend 
by  the  hall-door  steps.  But  it  stretches  away  at  the  back 
to  a  considerable  size. 

The  house  had  long  been  shut  up,  and  many  a  time  as 
children  we  had  peered  in  at  the  unshuttered  windows 
to  rooms  once  gay  with  gilding  and  white  wood  panel- 
ling, with  marble  mantel-pieces  that  had  coloured  wreaths 
let  in,  and  shutters  with  looking-glass  in  the  panels. 
The  house  seemed  built  for  lightness  and  brightness,  and 
was  said  indeed  to  have  been  designed  for  a  bride.  But 


HONEY   AMONG   THE   ROSES.  185 

the  bride  died  almost  before  the  waning  of  the  honey- 
moon, and  the  disconsolate  bridegroom  shut  up  the  place, 
and  let  it  go  to  ruin. 

The  little  lawn  in  front  was  planted  thickly  with  rose- 
trees,  from  which  I  suppose  the  place  derived  its  name. 
Many  of  them  had  gone  half-wild,  and  every  summer 
these  flung  out  the  most  exquisite  rosy  veil  of  blossoms, 
more  beautiful,  with  the  pale -green  leaves,  than  any 
gardener  ever  fostered.  For  years  we  had  gathered 
those  roses,  and  waded  in  the  grass,  knee-deep,  in  the 
garden,  to  find  the  cherries  and  apples  and  pears  and 
plums  in  their  season,  which  would  otherwise  have  gone 
to  feed  the  birds. 

As  we  came  up  to  the  door  we  saw  the  changes  that 
were  taking  place.  The  long  grass  was  mown  and  lying 
in  swathes,  and  a  grumpy-looking  old  man  was  shearing 
the  rose-trees,  now  fortunately  done  blooming. 

The  house-door  stood  open,  and  the  hall  was  full  of 
painters'  ladders  and  paint-pots  and  such  things,  while 
already  the  front  of  the  house  had  been  brilliantly 
whitened  and  the  shutters  re-painted. 

Oona's  cousin  came  bustling  out  to  meet  us,  her  com- 
fortable face  wreathed  in  smiles.  She  was  dressed  very 
neatly  in  black,  but  I  could  imagine  that  her  frilled  white 
cap,  and  the  little  shawl  round  her  shoulders,  might  ex- 
cite the  derision  of  the  English  servants.  However,  as 
Oona  explained,  Mary  was  subject  to  the  ear-ache  this 
good  many  years  back,  and  couldn't  bring  herself  to 
return  to  the  cocked-up  bit  of  a  thing  which  she  had 


186  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

worn  with  dignity  on  her  dark  hair  in  her  old  house- 
keeping days. 

The  library  was  in  comparative  order.  Like  all  the 
rooms  in  the  house,  it  was  light,  and  the  bookshelves  had 
been  painted  white,  which  I  thought  very  gay.  The 
floor  had  been  covered  with  a  cool  green-and- white  mat- 
ting, and  the  green  blinds  were  drawn  down  to  temper 
the  brightness  of  the  room.  It  was  a  real  summer  room 
as  I  saw  'ii  first,  and  the  effect  was  increased  by  the  open 
French  window,  which  led  on  to  a  flight  of  steps  going 
down  to  the  garden. 

Tea  was  set  out  on  a  table,  with  strawberries  in  their 
own  green  leaves,  and  honey,  fresh  from  the  hive,  with 
many  other  good  things;  but  it  was  not  the  eatables  that 
made  me  draw  a  long  breath  of  rapture.  It  was  what 
seemed  to  me  the  endless  number  of  books — books  of 
every  kind  I  saw  at  a  glance,  grave  and  gay,  ancient  and 
modern,  poetry,  novels,  biography,  art,  in  all  manner  of 
bindings,  from  purple  morocco  to  the  humble  paper 
yellowback. 

They  were  piled  high  on  the  floor,  and  in  boxes,  some 
opened,  some  still  unopened.  Rows  of  the  books  were 
hastily  set  on  the  shelves,  to  be  out  of  the  way,  I  felt 
sure,  for  they  were  higgledy-piggledy,  upside  down,  long 
and  short,  and  most  incongruous  neighbours. 

You,  good  people,  who  have  never  wanted  for  books, 
can  have  no  idea  of  what  the  sight  meant  to  me,  to  whom 
a  solitary  book  newly  come  my  way,  represented  hours 
of  delight.  I  simply  stood  and  sniffed  at  the  books, 


HONEY  AMONG  THE  ROSES.  187 

inhaling  the  smell  of  them  with  rapture.  For  the  mo- 
ment I  did  not  ask  to  touch;  to  gape  at  them  was  enough; 
and  twice  Mrs.  O'Connor  asked  me  to  take  my  seat  at 
the  tea-table  unheard. 

"There!"  said  Oona,  "she  never  saw  so  many  books 
before  in  her  life.  Come  away,  Miss  Hilda  dear,  and 
have  your  tea;  but  sure  I  never  saw  the  day,  no  matter 
how  young  you  were,  that  you  wouldn't  rather  have  an 
ould  romaush  of  a  book  than  your  good  food." 

"Is  that  the  way  with  her?"  said  Mary  O'Connor,  as 
I  came  reluctantly  to  the  table.  "  Whethen  she'll  have 
to  be  findin'  her  way  to  Rose  Hill  every  day  that's  in 
it,  if  she's  to  get  through  half  the  books.  I  hear  there's 
thousands  more  to  come  down." 

"  That  won't  give  her  much  trouble,"  said  Oona  proudly. 
"  Why,  before  she  was  three  she  could  read  me  the  whole 
news  was  on  the  papers." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  cried  her  cousin,  with  hands  flung 
out  in  admiration. 

"  I  wouldn't  blame  you  for  doubtin'  my  word,  for  Dr. 
Whittaker,  Lord  rest  him,  did  the  same.  He  was  in  vac- 
cinatin'  Master  Donald,  and  Miss  Hilda  sat  on  her  little 
creepy-stool  readin'  the  paper  to  her  dolls.  ''Tis  gib- 
berish,' says  he.  'Askin'  your  pardon,  sir,  for  contra- 
dictin'  you,  'tis  sense,'  says  I.  '  Come  over  here,  my 
little  girl,'  says  he, '  an'  tell  me,'  he  says, '  if  the  Rooshians 
is  smashin'  the  Turks,  or  the  Turks  knockin'  smoke  out 
o'  the  Rooshians.'  Well,  of  course,  the  innocent  child 
took  him  snriously,  an'  so  she  came  an'  perched  on  his 


188  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

knee,  an'  began  to  read  for  him — though,  of  course,  some 
of  the  words  was  too  big  for  her  little  mouth.  '  Oh,  by 
this  and  that,'  says  he, '  this  licks  creation !  Tis  a  progedy 
she's  goin'  to  be,  or  else,'  says  he,  '  she'll  grow  up  without 
any  sinse  at  all  in  her  brain-pan.' " 

If  Mary  O'Connor  hadn't  heard  this  tale  a  thousand 
times  the  young  Brandons  had,  and  the  boys  at  this 
stage  looked  up  indignantly  from  their  strawberries  and 
cream,  to  tell  Oona  they  were  rather  tired  of  it. 

"  'Deed,  then,"  she  said,  very  angry  with  them,  "  if  a 
bit  o'  the  same  love  of  the  book  had  been  passed  on, 
'twould  have  been  a  good  thing;  but  Master  Hugh  there 
said  he'd  rather  ait  his  jography  than  learn  it,  and  Master 
Donald,  it's  well  known  through  the  barony,  turned  his 
Ailments  of  Euclid  into  kite-tails." 

At  this  stage,  seeing  things  looked  a  bit  stormy,  I  in- 
terposed with  an  inquiry  about  the  "  ingenuities  ",  and 
the  attention  of  the  boys  was  distracted. 

After  tea  we  roamed  about  the  house  and  gardens  at 
our  will.  The  rooms  were  still  full  of  big  packing-cases 
and  swathed  articles  which  made  progress  difficult. 

"  General  MacNeill  seems  likely  to  settle  here,  Mary,"  I 
said,  looking  round  at  the  assemblage  of  furniture. 

"  I'm  told  he  says  he  doesn't  want  to  stir  out  of  it  till 
he  dies.  I  hear  he's  burnt  black,  poor  man,  with  the 
Ingy  sun,  an'  his  temper  not  what  it  ought  to  be  by 
raison  of  the  annoyance  of  them  Red  Injins  he's  been 
commandin'.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  now  if  he's  come 
here  to  get  his  mind  quiet  an'  his  temper  settled  before 


HONEY  AMONG  THE  ROSES.  189 

he  laves  this  world  for  a  better.  Ireland's  an  elegant 
quiet  place  for  makin'  your  sowl." 

I  smiled,  remembering  that  Lady  O'Brien  had  said 
something  of  the  same  kind. 

After  we  had  viewed  all  the  curiosities,  and  enjoyed 
ourselves  immensely,  I  sat  down  quietly  in  the  library 
to  wait  till  the  boys  and  the  twins  were  satiated  with 
the  gardens,  and  while  the  two  old  cronies  were  having 
their  gossip  in  the  housekeeper's  room. 

The  library  was  deliciously  quiet,  and  I  wandered 
about  from  one  heap  to  another,  picking  off  a  book  and 
looking  into  it,  and  then  drawn  by  the  embarrassment  of 
my  riches  to  another  one.  I  felt  as  if  I  should  be  a  long 
time  in  that  library  before  I  could  settle  down  to  read. 
I  should  have  to  look  into  every  single  book  first.  There 
were  delightful  little  ladders  by  which  to  reach  the 
upper  shelves.  I  looked  at  the  chaos  of  books  up 
there. 

"  Ah,"  said  I,  "  if  I  had  a  long,  long  day,  I  should  ask 
for  nothing  better  than  to  arrange  those  books!" 

A  sudden  flash  of  inspiration  came  to  me. 

"Hilda  Brandon,"  said  I,  "you  were  born  to  be  a 
librarian!" 

And  indeed  it  seemed  to  me  at  the  moment  as  though 
the  earth  could  hold  no  fairer  plot  of  peace  than  this  cool 
place,  with  the  green  garden  below,  and  the  atmosphere 
inside  cool  green  like  the  woods,  and  all  those  books 
waiting  to  be  handled  and  dusted  and  loved. 

Presently  the  twins  came  up  the  garden  steps,  and 


190  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

said  they  should  like  to  go  home,  by  which  I  guessed 
that  their  fruit-eating  capacity  had  come  to  an  end. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  be  horribly  upset  to-morrow,  little 
girls,"  said  I ;  but  they  assured  me  that  they  could  have 
eaten  a  great  deal  more  if  they  really  wanted  to,  only 
they  feared  that  the  boys  would  make  themselves  ill 
with  the  green  apples  they  were  eating  after  all  the  ripe 
fruit. 

However,  a  boy's  digestion  is  a  wonderful  thing,  and 
the  interest  those  boys,  and  the  twins  as  well,  showed  in 
their  supper  on  the  way  home,  fairly  amazed  me. 

Before  we  left,  Mary  O'Connor  gave  me  a  very  urgent 
invitation  to  come  and  read  all  the  books  I  liked,  and 
Oona  seconded  her. 

"  'Twill  do  you  a  world  of  good,  Miss  Hilda,"  she  said, 
"an'  keep  you  from  mopin'  about  by  yourself,  so  that 
the  sight  of  you  keeps  my  own  heart  sore." 

"  But  what  would  General  MacNeill  say?"  I  said  hesi- 
tating, for  I  wanted  very  badly  to  come. 

"What  would  he  say!"  exclaimed  Mary  indignantly; 
"  only  that  he  was  a  proud  man  to  have  a  clever  young 
lady  like  yourself  enjoyin'  his  ould  books.  But  anyhow 
he's  not  due  this  month  yet,  and  you  can  come  in  by  the 
garden  door  without  even  knockin',  but  just  come  an'  go 
as  you  like.  There's  no  one  will  make  or  meddle  with 
you,  an'  sure  when  the  master  comes,  an'  ould  Lady 
O'Brien  fetches  him  over  to  see  you,  you  can  just  spake 
up  an'  ask  him  if  you  mayn't  have  the  run  of  the  place." 

"  Very  well,  Mary,"  said  I,  "  I'll  come." 


HONEY  AMONG  THE  ROSES.  191 

Indeed  the  books  seemed  such  a  paradise  to  me  that 
I  did  not  stop  overlong  to  examine  my  scruples  about 
invading  General  MacNeill's  domain.  After  all,  unless 
he  was  a  perfect  curmudgeon,  he  could  not  object,  and 
then  his  friendship  with  Esther's  godmother  seemed  to 
make  him  a  kind  of  friend  of  ours  too. 

Yes,  on  the  whole,  I  thought  I  might  venture  to  accept 
Mary's  invitation,  and  indeed  the  thought  of  it  sent  me  to 
bed  that  night  with  more  cheerfulness  in  my  heart  than  I 
had  known  since  Pierce  died. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   MASTER  OF   ROSE   HILL. 

THE  following  day,  after  I  had  presided  at  lunch,  I  set 
out  with  great  joy  for  Rose  Hill,  and  spent  a  long 
afternoon  among  the  books,  and  though  I  had  said,  to 
quiet  my  scruples,  that  I  would  not  go  too  often,  yet 
there  did  not  seem  a  day  of  the  days  following  that  I 
could  bear  to  keep  away.  It  changed  all  the  face  of  my 
daily  life  for  me,  to  look  forward  to  those  quiet  hours. 
As  Mary  O'Connor  had  said,  no  one  disturbed  me.  I 
went  in  by  the  garden  and  up  the  rose- wreathed  steps, 
and  found  the  door  standing  invitingly  open  every  day. 
Then  at  four  Mary  would  send  me  in  a  little  tea-tray, 
which  I  was  usually  glad  enough  to  see  after  my  climb 
up  the  hilly  road,  and  my  rest  among  the  books;  and 
then  after  tea  I  would  read  again  till  it  was  time  to  go 
home. 

But  after  a  good  many  days  spent  in  sipping  the  honey 
of  the  books,  an  eagerness  came  on  me  to  arrange  them 
in  their  shelves,  so  I  asked  the  pretty  little  English  maid 
who  brought  my  tea  if  she  could  fetch  me  a  duster  and 
a  feather-brush. 


THE   MASTER   OF   ROSE   HILL.  193 

"Lawks,  miss,"  she  cried,  "wotever  for?" 

"  I'm  going  to  arrange  the  books,  Jane,"  said  I.  I  never 
could  bring  myself  to  call  her  "  Jenkins  ",  by  which  name 
she  had  been  known  in  her  other  situations,  she  told  me, 
and  Mary  O'Connor  was  in  sympathy  with  me  on  this  one 
point,  though  she  could  seldom  be  accused  of  over-con- 
sideration to  her  subordinates. 

"  If  I  was  in  a  place,"  Mary  said,  "  and  they  called  me 
'  O'Connor ',  I'd  ask  them  if  it  was  a  dog  they  were 
spakin'  to,  and  take  my  box  and  walk." 

Jane  was  so  perturbed  by  my  desire  for  activity  that 
she  carried  my  request  to  Mary  herself,  who  came  hurry- 
ing in. 

"  That  omadhaun  of  a  girl's  after  comin'  to  me  with  a 
story  about  your  wantin'  a  feather- whisk  and  a  duster, 
Miss  Hilda.  I  told  her  no  Brandon  could  want  the  like. 
They  haven't  got  their  hearin'  right,  them  cratures;  often 
an'  often  when  I  do  send  them  to  turn  out  the  upper 
bedrooms,  'tis  in  the  drawin'-room,  where  the  painter- 
men  are  workin',  I'll  find  them.  And  then  they'll  say 
they  didn't  understand  me  rightly.  '  The  shoe's  on  the 
wrong  foot,  my  girl,'  says  I.  '  If  it  was  myself  didn't 
understand  your  outlandish  up-and-down  curlykews  of 
a  way  of  spakin',  there'd  be  no  thin'  wonderful  in  it'." 

"  But  I  do  really  want  the  feather- brush  and  duster, 
and  a  big  apron,  if  you  will  lend  them  to  me,  Mary.  I 
do  so  want  to  get  those  books  in  order." 

"  You'll  be  fallin'  down  an'  breakin'  your  neck,"  said 
Mary  doubtfully. 

(M436)  K 


194  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  assured  her.  "  I'll  take 
my  time  about  it,  and  set  up  all  the  books  by  degrees. 
I  shall  love  to  do  it,  and  when  the  General  comes  home 
he'll  think  you  and  your  handmaidens  have  been  so 
clever,  Mary." 

"  You  won't  tire  yourself,  honey  ? " 

"  I'll  leave  off  the  minute  I'm  tired.  I'll  promise  you 
that,  Mary,"  cried  I,  all  eagerness  to  begin. 

So  Mary  brought  me  a  big  serviceable  apron,  and 
manufactured  me  a  mob-cap  out  of  a  piece  of  muslin,  to 
keep  my  hair  from  the  dust,  and,  so  protected,  I  began 
my  labours.  Mary  had  the  remaining  packing-cases 
opened  for  me,  so  that  I  had  all  the  books  under  my 
hand.  I  said  to  myself  that  I  was  giving  General 
MacNeill  a  quid  pro  quo  for  reading  his  books,  but  I 
really  set  out  to  arrange  them  for  the  sheer  pleasure  the 
task  gave  me.  It  was  slow  work,  but  it  was  quite 
delightful  when  one  had  got  a  comely  shelf-full  of  them 
together,  to  sit  down  and  survey  one's  handiwork,  and 
enjoy  a  well-earned  rest  and  recreation. 

But  between  finding  out  the  books  and  sorting  them, 
and  occasionally  altering  the  whole  arrangement  of  them, 
things  got  on  slowly.  It  was  nearing  the  month's  end, 
and  yet  only  one  side  of  the  library  had  been  done.  I 
was  beginning  to  grow  hopeless  about  finishing  the  job 
before  the  General  should  arrive  and  put  a  stop  to  my 
labours,  but  as  yet  there  was  no  word  of  his  coming.  I 
dreaded  that  coming,  which  should  shut  me  out  of  the 
library,  and  send  me  back  to  my  former  loneliness. 


THE  MASTER   OF   ROSE   HILL.  195 

I  had  gone  over  one  afternoon,  and  entered  by  the 
garden  as  usual,  and,  having  donned  my  cap  and  apron, 
I  was  working  away  furiously  at  an  upper  shelf.  Sud- 
denly I  heard  a  cough  behind  me,  and  it  startled  me  so 
much  that  it  was  a  mercy  I  didn't  fall.  But  my  lameness 
has  taught  me  caution,  so  I  turned  round  very  carefully 
and  sat  clown  on  the  top  step  of  the  ladder  to  survey  the 
intruder. 

It  was  an  old  gentleman  with  a  face  the  colour  of 
mahogany  and  a  bristling  white  moustache — General 
MacNeill,  of  course.  Neither  of  us  said  anything  for  a 
minute,  and  then  he  coughed  again,  a  short  sharp  cough, 
exactly  like  a  little  bark.  At  the  sound,  Paudeen,  who 
had  been  eyeing  him  watchfully  from  the  rug  at  the 
door  on  which  he  lay  every  afternoon,  responded  with  a 
bark  which  might  have  been  an  echo. 

The  old  fellow  looked  towards  Paudeen  irately,  as  if 
he  suspected  mockery,  then  back  at  me. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  girl,  and  what  are  you  doing 
with  those  books?"  he  snapped. 

"  My  name  is  Brandon,  sir,"  said  I  meekly,  "  and  I'm 
putting  the  books  in  order." 

"  H'm !  You'll  be  a  strange  kind  of  housemaid  if  you're 
able  to  do  that.  Who  put  you  to  do  it? — Mrs.  O'Connor? 
Hey?  What  kind  of  a  fool  is  the  woman  to  put  you  to 
such  work?" 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  I,  "  she  didn't.  I  put  myself 
to  it." 

"Hoity-toity!     Is  this  how  discipline  is  kept?     How 


196  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

do  you  suppose  that  plan  would  work  in  the  army,  young 
woman,  if  every  man  put  himself  to  whatever  work  he 
liked?" 

"  Badly,"  said  I. 

"  Badly  is  the  word,"  he  said  emphatically.  "  And  now 
if  you'll  please  to  step  off  that  ladder  I'll  see  what  kind 
of  hay  you've  been  making  of  my  library." 

I  came  down  meekly  and  stood  watching  him,  while 
he  went  up  in  my  place  and  began  examining  my 
shelves. 

"  H'm,  h'm!"  he  said  to  himself.  "^Eschylus,  Sophocles, 
Euripides, — not  so  bad,  by  Jove!  It  must  have  been  a 
chance  shot  her  sticking  them  side  by  side.  H'm,  h'm, — 
Horace,  Catullus,  Pindar, — couldn't  have  done  it  better 
myself." 

He  came  down  with  great  agility  and  faced  me, 
frowning. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  he  said  gruffly,  "  are  you  a  classical 
housemaid  ? " 

His  tone  was  so  aggressive  that  Paudeen  got  up  from 
his  rug  and  came  towards  us,  growling  suspiciously. 

"Be  quiet,  Paudeen,"  said  I;  and  then  answering  my 
interlocutor:  "No,  sir,  I'm  not  classical;  I've  only  gone 
by  what  I've  heard." 

"Where  did  my  housekeeper  pick  you  up?  Do  you 
belong  to  the  neighbourhood?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

I  was  beginning  to  wonder  with  some  alarm  how  I 
should  own  up  to  this  very  irascible-looking  old  gentle- 


"NOW,    LOOK    HERE,"    HE   SAID   GRUFFLY,     "ARE   YOU 
A   CLASSICAL    HOUSEMAID?" 


THE  MASTER  OF   ROSE   HILL.  197 

man,  when  Mary  O'Connor  came  in.  She  held  up  her 
hands,  standing  behind  him,  in  amazement.  Then  she 
came  forward. 

"  Shall  I  bring  your  tea  here,  sir?"  she  asked,  evidently 
under  the  impression  that  there  was  nothing  to  be 
explained.  "I  see  Miss  Hilda's  been  tellin'  you  that  I 
allowed  her  to  read  among  your  books.  I  told  her,  sir, 
that  I  knew  you'd  make  her  kindly  welcome." 

"Miss  what?"  he  thundered,  so  suddenly,  that  Mary 
jumped. 

"  Why,  Miss  Hilda  Brandon,  sir,"  she  answered  stiffly. 
"  Miss  Brandon,  of  Brandon.  Miss  Esther  lives  with 
Lady  O'Brien, — an'  a  kinder  an'  sweeter  young  lady 
than  Miss  Hilda —  There, — she's  give  herself  no  end  of 
trouble  over  them  books." 

The  old  fellow  whisked  off  his  skull-cap  and  made  me 
a  somewhat  chilly  bow. 

"  You've  been  laughing  at  me,  young  lady,"  he  said. 

"Oh  no,  indeed,  General  MacNeill!"  I  said;  "it  was 
you  that  took  me  for  a  housemaid,  and  I  was  just 
making  up  my  mind  to  undeceive  you." 

"  But  you  called  me  sir." 

"  Only  homage  from  a  young  woman  to  a  famous 
soldier,"  said  I  cheerfully. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  his  grimness  relaxing.  "Punish- 
ment— you'll  have  to  pour  out  my  tea,  and  afterwards 
explain  to  me  what  in  thunder  set  you  to  doing  my 
servants'  work." 

"  You  said  before  that  no  servant  could  do  it." 


198  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  You  are  right.  Well,  my  librarian's  work,  if  I  had 
such  a  functionary  ?" 

"  Love  of  it,  General." 

"And  you'll  give  it  up  now?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  I  regretfully. 

"  I  don't  see  why.  If  you  loved  it  before,  you  love  it 
now,  and  I  sha'n't  interfere  with  you.  A  battered  old 
hulk  like  me  in  the  house  needn't  make  much  difference. 
There's  plenty  for  me  to  do  getting  other  things  into 
order  without  my  hindering  you.  You'll  come,  hey?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  shall,"  said  I. 

"  That's  right.     And  now  pour  out  the  tea." 

I  grew  quite  to  like  General  MacNeill  that  very  first 
day,  he  was  so  kind  and  gentle  in  looking  after  my 
wants,  and  then  he  took  my  little  Paudeen  on  his  knee 
and  fed  him  with  dainty  little  bits,  so  that  I  began  to 
suspect  an  unusually  kind  heart  under  the  gruff  exterior. 

"And  so  you  are  great  friends  with  my  old  flame, 
Molly  O'Brien?"  he  said. 

"Molly  O'Brien!"  repeated  I,  wondering. 

"Lady  O'Brien,  then,  if  it  pleases  you  better.  Of 
course  I  forget  she's  an  old  woman,  and  the  pretty  name 
sounds  odd  to  a  young  creature  like  you.  All  the  same, 
Molly  was  a  pretty  girl  as  I  remember  her,  and  the  soft 
name  just  suited  her — a  pretty,  pretty  girl." 

"  So  I've  often  heard  her  say." 

"  I've  no  doubt  you  have,"  he  answered  with  twinkling 
eyes.  "And  how  is  my  old  friend  keeping?  I  haven't 
seen  her  for  some  years." 


THE  MASTER   OF   ROSE   HILL.  199 

"  Very  well,  indeed,  General.  And  she's  a  very  pretty 
old  woman,  you  know." 

"  Aye,  I  suppose  she  is.  Molly '11  be  in  her  grave  before 
she  gives  up  her  claims  to  be  a  belle." 

"And  very  witty  and  sharp  and  kind  and  good,"  I 
added — "  sharp-sweet,  like  a  wholesome  fruit." 

"Oh,  the  very  old  Molly!"  he  chuckled.  "You've  just 
hit  it  off,  young  lady.  Well,  Molly  and  I  were  young 
together,  and  both  handsome,  though  you'll  laugh  in  your 
sleeve  at  my  saying  so,"  bending  a  somewhat  fierce  gaze 
upon  me;  "and  here  we  are  now,  two  lonely  old  hulks 
cast  high  and  dry,  side  by  side,  to  moulder  to  our  last 
end.  Ah!  I  remember  Molly  fresh  as  a  rose  in  the  dew. 
She  should  have  had  a  girl  of  her  own  to  be  as  pretty  as 
she  was!" 

"  She  has  my  sister  Esther,  General,  living  with  her 
now.  Esther  is  her  god-daughter,  and  she's  as  pretty  as 
a  picture — not  the  least  bit  in  the  world  like  me,"  I 
added  hastily. 

"Oh,  indeed!  I'm  glad  Molly's  got  a  young  girl  to 
live  with  her.  And  your  sister's  very  pretty,  and  not 
the  least  bit  in  the  world  like  you.  Well,  well,  we  can't 
all  be  pretty,"  he  said,  with  a  humorous  glint  in  his  eyes, 
which,  now  I  noticed,  were  quite  startlingly  blue  for  the 
eyes  of  an  old  man. 

"The  Brandons  are  all  handsome  and  strong  except 
me,"  said  I. 

"And  you're  good,  I  suppose?" 

"  No,  but  I'm  supposed  to  have  the  brains,"  said  I. 


200  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"And  which  would  you  rather  have,  brains  or  beauty?" 
he  asked,  with  great  gravity. 

"Beauty,"  said  I,  "of  course.  But  brains  are  a  great 
comfort  too." 

"  Now,  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  he  said.  "  I'd 
have  distrusted  you  if  you'd  said  you'd  rather  have 
brains.  But  how  do  you  use  them?  Are  you  cramming 
that  little  head  of  yours  with  a  lot  of  knowledge  that'll 
never  be  any  use  to  you — examinations,  degrees,  all  that 
sort  of  thing?" 

"  If  I  were  I  should  be  almost  afraid  to  tell  you,"  said 
I,  "  while  you  frown  at  me  like  that." 

"Never  mind  my  frowns,"  said  he.  "They  mean 
nothing.  My  bark's  worse  than  my  bite.  See,  your 
little  dog  has  found  that  out!" 

I  looked  at  Paudeen,  who  was  sitting  with  a  confiding 
paw  in  one  of  the  General's  palms. 

"  Paudeen's  a  very  wise  dog,"  said  I;  "  but  I  don't  think 
it  takes  much  wisdom  to  discover  that." 

"You  saw  it  with  half  an  eye,  hey?"  he  said,  frowning 
more  fiercely  than  ever.  "  So  you  don't  think  I'm  an 
ogre  that'll  eat  you  up.  Well,  I'm  glad,  as  you're  going 
to  arrange  my  books  for  me.  Still,  some  that  should 
have  known  better  took  me  at  my  angry  word  and  went 
away  from  me.  What  would  you  think,  young  lady,  of 
one  who  had  known  me  all  his  life,  and  yet  knew  no 
better  than  to  go  when  I  said '  Go,  and  let  me  see  your 
face  no  more'?" 

"  If  it  was  a  '  he ',"  said  I,  "  that  makes  it  difficult.     If 


THE   MASTER   OF   ROSE   HILL.  201 

it  were  a  'she',  I  should  say  she  was  a  dunderhead. 
But  in  a  matter  between  two  men,  there  come  in  questions 
of  pride  and  dignity  on  which  I  am  not  able  to  speak.  I 
don't  know  enough  about  it." 

"  Well,  well,  we  won't  talk  about  it  now.  I  am  glad 
Molly  O'Brien  has  your  sister,  though.  And  now  tell  me 
about  yourself.  You  have  other  sisters  ?  Why,  I  remem- 
ber your  grandmother,  my  dear.  You  favour  her  rather." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  I,  with  some  scorn.  "  Aline  is  like 
her,  I  believe,  but  more  like  grandpapa." 

"  Oh,  Aline  is  another  sister,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I, "  our  eldest,  dear  sister,  who  has  mothered 
all  of  us." 

And  then  I  found  myself  telling  him  everything  about 
ourselves,  as  if  I  had  known  him  for  years.  I  told  him 
even  about  dear  Pierce,  at  least  till  the  sobs  came  up  in 
my  throat,  and  I  was  obliged  to  walk  away  from  the 
table,  and  keep  silence  for  a  few  minutes  to  recover  my 
composure.  When  I  came  back  to  the  table  I  found  the 
General  sitting  as  straight  as  a  ramrod,  and  stroking 
Paudeen  with  great  gravity,  and  so  we  passed  on  to  less 
trying  topics. 

"  But  you  didn't  tell  me,"  he  said,  "  how  you  propose 
to  use  those  brains  of  yours.  Brains  are  given  to  be 
used,  young  lady." 

"  Oh,  not  in  passing  exams.!"  said  I.  "  I  am  not  clever 
enough  for  that,  I  suppose.  I  am  trying  to  write,"  I 
said,  looking  down  at  my  hands,  for  I  am  shy  of  betray- 
ing my  literary  aspirations. 


202  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  Write!"  he  echoed.     "  What  kind  of  writing?" 

"  Oh,  novels,  poems,  plays,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  well.  So  you  would  be  an  authoress  ?  Have 
you  published  anything?" 

"  Nothing  yet." 

"Ever  tried?" 

"  Not  yet:  I've  burned  reams." 

"  Ah !  not  easily  satisfied.  That's  the  right  way  to  do 
good  work.  Well,  the  pen  has  a  mission  too,  young  lady. 
You  won't  forget  that?  You  won't  strive  only  after 
worldly  honour  and  Success?  You  won't  forget  the  Giver 
of  the  gift?" 

I  was  not  long  in  finding  out  that  General  MacNeill, 
like  many  military  and  naval  men,  was  very  strongly 
and  simply  religious  in  his  character,  and  his  religion 
entered  into  all  his  life,  even  to  the  extent  of  holding  his 
naturally  fiery  temper  greatly  in  check.  Though,  as  he 
told  me  afterwards,  the  struggle  between  the  flesh  and 
the  spirit  was  an  ever-continuing  one.  I  could  not  have 
imagined  him  without  his  peppery  temper,  and  I  have 
often  thought  that  I  could  not  be  so  fond  of  him  if  he 
had  quite  succeeded  in  driving  out  the  old  Adam.  Still, 
he  was  one  of  those  essentially  manly  men  who  are 
always  soft  and  gentle  towards  women,  so  that  his 
greatest  irascibility  towards  myself  had  a  touch  of 
tenderness  in  it  which  took  out  all  the  sting.  Yet  I 
could  imagine  that  with  a  man  the  dear  old  man  might 
have  been  trying.  He  was  dictatorial,  when  the  flesh 
rather  than  the  spirit  had  the  upper  hand,  and  I  could 


THE   MASTER   OF  ROSE   HILL.  203 

well  believe  what  Hawkins,  his  soldier  servant,  said  of 
him,  half  regretfully: 

"Ah,  Miss,  the  master  isn't  the  man  he  was  before  he 
found  religion !  He  never  has  none  of  the  old  rages  now, 
and  the  langwidge  he'd  scatter  in  them  days  was — well, 
it  was  lively.  Sometimes  I  do  feel  sorry  for  him  tryin' 
to  satisfy  himself  with  'dashes'  and  'bloomin's',  and 
often  I've  thought  he'd  do  himself  a  mischief  through 
not  havin'  the  old  words  to  let  himself  go  on.  Not  but 
what  he  did  change  the  face  of  the  rig'mint  before  he 
left,  an'  a  good  thing  too.  An'  terrible  down  on  lan- 
gwidge he  was.  Why,  'e  got  rid  of  the  rig'mintal  parrot 
because  it  wouldn't  change  its  ways." 

But  all  this  belongs  to  a  later  stage,  when  I  had 
learned  to  appreciate  and  love  the  dear  old  General,  and 
to  bless  the  hour  he  came  to  settle  at  Rose  HilL 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   STORY  OF    A   SORROW. 

A  FTER  that  I  continued  my  work  of  arranging  General 
-Ei-  MacNeill's  library  with  a  mind  very  much  at  rest, 
and  in  a  spirit  of  thorough  enjoyment.  I  saw  now  no 
necessary  end  to  my  use  of  this  delightful  place,  for  soon 
after  we  had  made  friends  the  General  presented  me  with 
a  key  to  the  garden  entrance  of  the  library. 

"  It's  a  symbol,"  he  said,  "  of  your  right  to  come  and 
go  without  consulting  me  or  anyone  else,  and  I  thought 
you'd  like  to  have  it,  though  of  course  there'd  be  always 
someone  to  open  the  door  to  you,  and  no  one  at  all  to  say 
you  nay." 

He  was  quite  right.  That  symbolical  key  did  add  to 
my  happiness  in  the  library,  for  I  no  longer  felt  an  out- 
sider, but  as  one  who  had  an  inalienable  right  there. 

The  General  never  interfered  with  my  work,  except  to 
approve  of  it,  and  occasionally  to  insist  that  I  should  sit 
down  and  read  and  rest  myself  when  I  was  very  anxious 
to  get  on  with  my  librarian's  work.  "  Very  good,  very 
good!"  I  would  hear  him  say  behind  my  back  while  I 
worked;  and  I  would  just  toss  him  a  greeting  from  off 


THE   STORY   OF  A   SORROW.  205 

my  ladder  and  go  on,  while  he  went  briskly  back  to 
his  own  work.  We  never  talked  except  during  the  more 
or  less  long  half-hour  we  gave  to  our  tea. 

The  General  was  tremendously  energetic,  and  he  was 
working  hard  those  days  getting  things  into  order.  No 
one,  he  determined,  should  place  his  bric-a-brac  or  statu- 
ary or  pictures  but  himself;  he  had  an  extreme  sense  of 
tidiness,  and  was  fidgety  about  his  things.  He  would 
have  no  help  from  the  women  servants.  He  and  Haw- 
kins did  all  the  unpacking  and  hanging  and  setting  up. 
I  could  understand  better  now  his  angry  indignation 
when  he  found  me  handling  his  books,  and  took  me  for 
a  maid-servant,  and  I  was  quite  proud  of  the  immense 
compliment  he  paid  me  when  he  left  me  so  much  to 
my  own  guidance  among  them. 

He  was  not  exactly  a  reading  man,  though  he  could 
enjoy  an  hour  with  a  book  and  a  pipe  as  much  as  any 
man  living.  A  great  part  of  his  library  had  come  down 
to  him  from  his  grandfather,  the  Bishop  of  Westchester, 
and  he  had  added  to  it  with  knowledge  and  pleasure,  yet 
without  any  very  overweening  delight  in  the  books  as 
books.  He  told  me  once  that  he  liked  books  about  fight- 
ing, whether  the  fight  was  in  the  natural  or  the  spiritual 
world.  The  Iliad  or  the  Holy  War  equally  appealed  to 
him,  and  in  The  Soldier's  Pocket-Book,  or  the  last  treatise 
on  gunnery,  he  was  pretty  equally  at  home. 

When  we  met  at  tea-time,  we  each  gave  a  report  of 
what  we  had  been  doing.  The  General  himself  always 
fed  Paudeen  with  a  few  Naples  biscuits  and  a  little 


206  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

saucer  full  of  milk-and-water,  after  which  he  was  dis- 
missed. "Now,  right  about  face — march!"  the  General 
would  say,  adding,  "  Discipline  is  necessary  for  little  dogs 
as  well  as  for  human  beings  if  they  are  not  to  infringe 
the  rights  of  others."  And  Paudeen  soon  understood 
that  at  "March!"  he  was  to  retire  to  the  mat  and  ask  for 
no  more  food. 

Sometimes  after  tea  I  went,  at  the  General's  request,  to 
see  what  he  had  been  doing.  Rose  Hill  was  going  to  be 
a  very  beautiful  house,  I  thought,  not  being  used  to  the 
rich  colours  and  deep  dyes  of  the  carpets  and  draperies, 
of  which  the  General  had  a  great  profusion.  These  made 
a  fine  background  for  the  statues  and  the  pottery  and 
bronzes  and  silver.  I  used  to  think  it  all  too  beautiful 
for  an  old  soldier,  whose  own  tastes  I  gathered  to  be 
quite  simple.  Once  I  said  something  of  the  kind  to  him. 
We  were  great  friends  by  this  time,  and  I  could  risk 
being  impertinent.  He  had  called  me  to  see  a  Clytie  in 
front  of  a  piece  of  Indian  embroidery,  purple,  bronze,  and 
scarlet. 

"  She's  lovely,"  said  I  heartily.  "  What  a  beautiful 
house  you  will  have  presently,  and  all  for  yourself, 
General!" 

"Ah!"  said  he,  "you're  thinking  it's  thrown  away  on 
the  old  soldier." 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said  hastily,  "I  didn't  mean  that!" 

"  You  did,  child,  and  you  were  thinking  as  well,  though 
you'd  be  too  gentle  to  own  it  even  to  yourself,  that  I  am 
an  old  fool  for  gathering  such  things  when  a  few  years 


THE   STORY  OF  A  SORROW.  207 

must  see  them  sent  to  the  hammer.  And  you're  right,  so 
far  as  you  know.  But  when  I  was  gathering  them  I  had 
no  thought  of  surrounding  my  own  worn-out  old  life  with 
beauty  and  luxury." 

He  sighed  and  turned  away,  and  I  remembered  how 
he  had  spoken  before  of  someone  who  had  taken  his 
angry  words  seriously  and  had  left  him.  I  felt  very 
sorry  for  the  General,  and  very  indignant  against  that 
unknown  person,  whom  I  only  wished  I  had  there  to 
give  a  bit  of  my  mind  to. 

"Why  don't  you  have  your  sister  to  live  with  you, 
General?"  I  asked,  for  he  had  told  me  he  had  a  sister 
living  in  London. 

"  What,  Lucy!"  he  cried.  "  Oh,  we'd  be  flint  and  steel ! 
The  same  house  wouldn't  hold  the  two  of  us  for  long, 
though  we're  really  attached  to  each  other.  Wait  till 
you've  seen  Lucy,  and  you'll  understand  what  a  pre- 
posterous suggestion  you've  made,  young  lady." 

I  had  told  Aline  in  my  letters  about  General  MacNeill, 
and  how  I  was  enjoying  myself  arranging  his  books,  and 
by  return  had  came  a  perfect  tornado  of  messages  from 
Lady  O'Brien  to  her  old  friend,  and  a  letter  from  Aline 
saying  how  glad  she  was  I  had  found  such  a  solace  in 
my  loneliness  as  my  visits  to  Rose  Hill.  I  really  was 
not  sorry  now  that  I  had  missed  Kilkee.  I  felt  sure  I 
should  not  have  enjoyed  it  half  so  much  as  I  was  enjoy- 
ing my  life  at  home. 

One  afternoon  the  General  walked  home  with  me,  and 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  twins — whom  at  first  his 


208  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

aspect  nearly  put  to  flight — and  the  two  boys.  He  be- 
came great  friends  with  them.  The  boys  were  quick  to 
recognize  in  him  the  boyishness  that  in  a  sense  placed 
them  on  a  level,  while  there  were  all  his  achievements, 
which  they  had  learned — Heaven  knows  how — to  give 
the  friendship  that  romantic  tinge  of  hero-worship  which 
just  made  it  perfect.  The  meeting  resulted  in  a  visit  to 
Rose  Hill,  which  was  the  first  of  many.  By  this  time 
the  house  was  getting  into  order,  and  the  General  was, 
as  he  would  have  said,  off  duty;  and  as  for  me,  they 
never  disturbed  me.  I  might  slip  away  after  tea,  and 
leave  the  party  on  the  lawn,  following  those  diagrams 
of  the  General's  in  which  he  showed  how  a  battle  was 
fought 

I  have  laughed  to  look  back  and  see  the  stiff  old  veteran 
and  the  boys  all  down  on  their  knees  making  a  battle- 
field in  the  gravel  of  the  path,  while  the  little  girls  peered 
between  them,  scarcely  less  fascinated. 

Nor  was  the  General  always  the  raconteur.  He  was 
ready  to  listen  with  kindling  eyes  to  the  story  of  the  big 
trout  caught  below  the  Lacken  Falls  last  May,  or  that 
wonderful  adventure  when  the  boys  had  climbed  to  the 
eagle's  eyrie,  happily  during  the  bird's  absence,  and  had 
discovered  a  perfect  charnel-house.  It  was  a  feat  never 
repeated,  for  Aline  had  been  so  frightened  about  it,  and 
so  stern,  that  they  had  taken  her  will  for  law. 

"Fine  boys,  fine  spirited  lads!"  the  General  said  to  me 
one  day.  "They  ought  to  be  serving  Her  Majesty.  They're 
cut  out  for  soldiers." 


THE   STORY   OF  A   SORROW.  209 

"  Not  both  of  them,  General,"  said  I.  "  We  want  one 
boy  at  home  to  take  care  of  so  many  women." 

"  He'd  take  care  of  you  all  the  better  for  a  few  years' 
soldiering.  However,  duty's  duty,  and  if  the  lad  sees  his 
post  is  here,  and  he  can  find  work  to  occupy  him,  let  him 
stay.  Why  isn't  the  second  lad  at  Sandhurst?" 

"  Sandhurst  means  money,  General." 

"Pooh!"  he  said  very  fiercely,  "  what  is  money?" 

"  A  commodity  which  we  Brandons  lack  very  much." 

He  looked  at  me  sharply,  and  muttered  to  himself  that 
something  must  be  done ;  the  fine  lads  couldn't  be  allowed 
to  loaf  the  best  part  of  their  lives  away;  but  as  he  didn't 
speak  to  me,  I  took  no  notice  of  what  he  said,  and  the 
matter  dropped. 

A  day  or  two  later,  when  the  General  was  having  one 
of  his  field-days  with  the  boys  and  the  twins,  I  heard 
them  all  come  in  from  the  lawn,  and  tramp  upstairs  to 
the  General's  private  domain.  I  did  not  hear  them  come 
back,  and  presently  the  tea  was  brought  in  and  set  on 
a  table. 

"  Ring  the  bell,  Jane,"  said  I. 

Jane  rang  the  bell  and  departed,  but  no  one  came.  The 
tea  stood  some  minutes,  and  then  I  rang  again,  but  with 
no  result. 

"Ah!"  said  I  to  myself,  "they  are  so  absorbed  in  their 
discussion  that  they  have  not  heard."  And  so  I  went  in 
search  of  them. 

I  found  my  way  to  them  by  the  low  hum  of  voices, 
and  when  I  entered  the  room  where  they  were  I  came 

(M436)  O 


210  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

upon  the  whole  party  bending  over  a  table  on  which 
there  was  an  open  map.  The  General  was  tracing  for 
them  the  path  of  a  retreat,  and  so  absorbed  were  they 
that  they  did  not  hear  me  come  in. 

I  looked  about  me  with  interest.  The  room  was  bare 
even  to  nakedness.  A  little  iron  bed  stood  in  one  corner. 
There  was  a  high  wooden  desk,  a  few  penitential  chairs, 
a  bath  with  a  can  of  cold  water  standing  in  it,  a  shelf 
with  a  few  shabby  books  obviously  of  a  devotional  kind. 
On  the  wall,  between  some  soberly-coloured  texts,  were 
one  or  two  prints  of  famous  soldiers;  and  above  the 
mantel-piece,  with  its  row  of  pipes,  its  pistol-cases,  and 
a  long  sword  in  its  scabbard,  there  hung  a  portrait  in 
pastel  of  a  young  man,  the  one  bit  of  colour  in  the  room. 

I  gazed  at  it  fascinated.  It  recalled  to  my  memory  the 
young  man  who  had  been  so  kind  that  day  long  ago  at 
Annagassan  Races.  Why,  it  was  he  surely — the  expres- 
sion, the  eyes,  the  mouth,  at  once  grave  and  humorous. 
I  had  not  forgotten  him  all  those  years,  and  I  had  no 
doubt  about  him  now.  How  strange  to  find  his  picture 
here  in  General  MacNeill's  room! 

"Hullo!"  said  Hugh,  suddenly  espying  me.  "Here's 
Hilda.  You'll  have  to  do  it  all  over  again  for  her. 
General." 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  know,"  said  I,  "  that  the  tea's  been 
standing  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  the  bell  has  rung 
twice.  It's  not  what  I  call  discipline,  General." 

"  No  more  it  isn't,"  said  the  General  gaily.  "  I've  been 
training  the  young  recruits  badly,  but  we  were  fighting, 


THE  STORY  OF  A  SORROW.  211 

Miss  Hilda,  and  in  war-time  we  take  a  snack  when  we 
can.  Run  away,  youngsters,  run  away,  or  the  tea  won't 
bear  drinking." 

The  next  day  when  we  were  alone  I  spoke  to  General 
MacNeill  about  the  portrait,  with  a  curious  shyness  for 
which  I  was  at  a  loss  to  account. 

"Ah,  the  portrait!"  he  said  after  me.  "You  noticed  it. 
And  what  did  you  think  of  it,  my  dear?" 

A  film  came  over  the  fine  blue  eyes,  and  I  was  half- 
sorry  I  had  spoken  of  it,  yet  I  was  very  curious  to  find 
out  who  the  original  was. 

"  I'm  not  interested  in  it  as  a  work  of  art,"  I  said,  "  but 
I  can't  help  fancying  that  I  once  saw  the  original." 

"  Did  you,  now  ? "  said  the  General  with  eager  excite- 
ment. "  Like  enough,  my  dear.  He  was  stationed  close 
by  here  with  his  regiment  some  years  ago." 

"  It's  the  very  same,"  said  I.  "  I  thought  I  remembered 
the  eyes  and  the  mouth.  I  wonder  the  boys  didn't  notice 
it;  but  perhaps  they've  forgotten  him.  They  were  only 
children  then." 

"  How  did  you  meet  him  ?  Tell  me  everything  about 
it,"  cried  the  General,  and  in  his  excitement  the  film  of 
suffering  rolled  away  from  his  eyes,  and  left  them  bright 
once  more. 

I  told  him  the  story  of  my  accident. 

"Ah,"  he  kept  saying,  "that  was  so  like  my  Lance! 
Yes,  yes;  Lance  was  always  so  kind  and  clever.  He  kept 
his  wits  about  him  when  other  people  got  theirs  scattered. 
Ah,  good  boy!  good  boy! "  and  so  on. 


212  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

When  I  had  finished  he  sank  into  a  reverie,  so  that  he 
forgot  to  tell  me  who  Lance  was.  I  had  to  recall  it  to 
his  memory. 

"  I  have  often  wished,"  said  I,  "  to  know  the  name  of 
the  gentleman  who  befriended  us  in  so  timely  a  way, 
but  in  the  confusion  I  never  asked,  and  afterwards  we 
found  that  he  had  gone  away.  I  don't  even  know  to 
this  day." 

"Why,  bless  me,  haven't  I  told  you?  Lance  is  my  boy, 
my  own  boy,  my  son." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure  he  is,"  said  I.  "  Now  I  know  how 
it  is  that  when  you  look  kind  and  funny  you  have 
reminded  me  of  somebody.  Of  course  the  colour  is  all 
different,  but  the  expression  is  the  same." 

"  In  looks  Lance  is  the  image  of  his  dear  sainted  young 
mother.  But  I  daresay  there  is  an  expression,  as  you 
have  seen." 

"  Why  isn't  he  with  you,  then?"  said  I  bluntly. 

The  General  lifted  his  eyes  upwards,  and  again  the 
strange  film  of  suffering  came  over  them. 

"For  five  years  now,"  he  said,  "I  have  not  known 
if  my  son  is  dead  or  living." 

"  Poor  General!"  said  I  stupidly,  feeling  for  the  moment 
as  if  I  too  had  had  a  blow. 

"I  deserved  my  punishment,"  he  went  on  in  a  low 
voice.  "  I  had  not  then  learned  to  bury  my  will  in  the 
Will.  I  was  a  hot-headed,  wilful,  evil-tempered  old  man, 
though  even  then  the  Light  was  leading  me.  I  tried  to 
force  my  will  on  the  boy,  and  when  he  would  not  have 


THE   STORY   OF  A   SORROW.  213 

it,  for  he  too  had  a  will  of  his  own  and  something  of  a 
temper,  I  bade  him  begone,  never  thinking  he  would  take 
me  at  my  word.  But  he  did,  and  from  that  hour  to  this 
I  was  alone  till  you  came." 

"  But  why  don't  you  ask  him  to  come  back?"  said  I. 

"  He  volunteered  for  special  service  in  Afghanistan, 
and  there  he  disappeared.  Whether  he  was  killed  or 
taken  prisoner,  none  knows,  except  God.  But  I  am  sure 
that  if  he  could  have  come  to  me,  he  would  have  come 
long  ago.  His  anger  against  me  could  not  have  endured 
all  these  years." 

"You  poor,  poor  old  man!"  said  I,  beginning  to  cry: 
the  story  had  made  me  feel  so  lonely  and  forlorn. 

The  General  came  round  and  stroked  my  hair  tenderly. 

"Good  little  girl!"  he  said,  "to  be  so  sorry  for  an  old 
man's  trouble."  But  indeed  I  felt  as  if  the  trouble  were 
my  own.  "  There,  my  dear,"  he  went  on.  "  Don't  spoil 
your  pretty  eyes.  Kneel  down  with  me  now,  and  let  us 
resign  ourselves  to  the  Will.  Wherever  my  boy  is,  and 
it  is  hard  not  to  know  what  is  befalling  him,  he  is  never 
out  of  reach  of  the  Power  and  the  Love." 

We  knelt  down  then,  and  the  poor  old  General  poured 
out  a  prayer  which  I  thought  most  heart-breaking  in  its 
pathos.  I  seemed  to  realize,  as  he  revealed  his  heart 
unconsciously,  all  the  fears  my  old  friend  had  had  to 
endure  for  his  boy  in  the  hands  of  a  cruel  enemy.  The 
prayer  seemed  to  help  and  comfort  both  of  us.  When  we 
stood  up  I  took  the  General's  brown  old  hand  in  mine. 

"  I  am  sure  he  will  come  back,"  I  said  fervently. 


214  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,  thank  you,"  he  said  hastily; 
and  then  he  added,  "I  am  sure  you  are  a  blessing,  a  helper 
and  comfort  sent  from  God  to  a  lonely  old  man." 

Then  he  told  me  how  he  had  come  to  quarrel  with  his 
son.  He  had  tried  to  make  a  marriage  for  him  with  a 
certain  Miss  Milbank,  and  when  the  young  man  had 
refused  to  accept  his  father's  choice  for  him  the  hasty 
quarrel  had  ensued. 

"Now,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  General  sadly,  "you 
understand  how  it  is  that  I  come  to  have  so  many  pretty 
things.  I  would  have  given  up  everything  to  them,  so 
long  as  they  kept  me  in  a  corner  of  their  hearts,  and  a 
corner  of  their  pretty  house,  where  I  could  look  on  at 
my  boy's  happiness,  and  see  perhaps  the  little  grand- 
children growing  up  about  me.  I  wanted  to  settle  him, 
to  ensure  his  happiness,  as  if  I  could  be  his  Providence. 
Well,  well,  and  I  thought  May  Milbank  cared  for  him, 
but  afterwards  I  found  that  I  was  all  wrong." 

"  Dear  General,"  said  I  again,  "  I  am  quite  sure  he  will 
come  back." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

I  VISIT  THE  GREAT  WORLD. 

IT  must  not  be  imagined  that  during  those  happy  weeks 
I  had  been  quite  forgetting  my  novel.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  grew  steadily  during  the  morning  hours  in  which 
I  worked  at  it,  and  it  was  not  the  worse,  I  am  sure,  for 
the  new  pleasantness  that  had  come  into  my  life. 

As  time  went  on,  and  the  friendship  between  myself 
and  the  General  throve,  I  even  allowed  myself  to  be  per- 
suaded to  read  him  some  chapters  of  it;  and  finding  him 
so  full  of  interest  and  so  excellent  a  critic,  I  went  on  with 
the  reading  of  it  as  it  grew.  He  had  all  the  love  of  a 
story  which  belonged  to  the  youthfulness  of  his  heart, 
and  I  found  that  the  more  romantic  I  grew — and  I  had 
been  rather  shy  of  the  romantic  passages  at  first — the 
keener  grew  his  interest. 

Indeed,  he  took  my  characters  as  seriously  as  if  they 
had  been  living  men  and  women,  and  would  argue  with 
me  vehemently  about  the  exact  course  of  conduct  that 
might  have  been  expected  from  one  or  another, — a  de- 
lightfully flattering  thing  to  an  author.  In  nine  cases 
out  of  ten  he  was  right,  and  I  was  not  too  proud  to 


216  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

accept  his  suggestions,  so  that  the  book,  as  it  grew,  came 
really  to  have  a  part  of  the  General  in  it,  and  I  used  to 
say  we  had  better  publish  in  collaboration. 

I  was  going  to  look  for  a  publisher  for  Love  in  the 
Valley,  though  I  did  not  at  all  expect  to  be  like  those 
silly  people  in  novels  who  make  tremendous  successes 
with  a  very  first  book.  I  expected  to  have  a  very  stiff, 
uphill  fight  before  I  should  even  see  my  name  on  the 
title-page  of  a  book. 

"  And  when  I  do  see  it,"  I  said  to  the  General,  "  it  will 
not  be  my  first  book.  Why,  my  first  book  was  burnt 
early  in  my  teens!" 

The  interest  the  General  took  in  my  hero,  Maurice 
Westwater,  was  something  really  touching. 

"  However  you've  managed  it,  young  woman,"  he  said, 
"you've  made  a  success  of  that  lad.  Somehow  he  re- 
minds me  of  my  own  boy." 

As  all  the  General's  suggestions  about  the  development 
of  Maurice's  character  tended,  I  felt  sure,  to  make  him 
more  and  more  a  portrait  of  Lance,  I  was  not  surprised 
if,  by  and  by,  the  likeness  came  to  be  more  than  a 
shadowy  one. 

One  fine  September  afternoon  brought  Aline  home,  and 
overjoyed  I  was  to  see  her.  The  sea-breezes  had  given 
her  dear  fair  cheeks  a  touch  of  brown  which  delighted 
me,  while  her  step  was  brisk,  and  her  eyes  tranquil  as  I 
had  hardly  dared  to  hope. 

The  very  first  thing  she  did  when  she  came  into  the 
house,  before  she  removed  her  wraps,  was  to  go  upstairs 


I  VISIT   THE   GREAT  WORLD.  217 

to  Pierce's  room,  which  Oona  had  kept  all  those  months 
with  drawn  blinds.  She  remained  there  only  a  few 
seconds,  but  in  the  time  she  had  drawn  up  the  blinds,  and 
flung  all  the  windows  open  to  the  sweet  air. 

"  I  am  going  to  put  the  twins  next  door  to  you,  Hilda," 
she  said  when  she  returned,  "and  keep  for  myself  that 
room  which  has  known  so  much  of  heaven." 

While  she  drank  her  tea  we  all  gathered  about  her,  and 
poured  out  our  stories  about  the  new  tenant  of  Rose  Hill, 
and  the  joys  of  his  domicile. 

Aline  listened  with  her  maternal  smile. 

"What  a  kind  old  man  he  must  be!"  she  said  in  a  pause 
of  the  crowding  voices. 

"  Not  so  old  as  all  that  amounts  to,"  said  one  of  the 
boys  rather  resentfully.  "You  don't  call  sixty  old, 
Aline?" 

"Well,  I  don't  call  it  exactly  young,"  said  Aline,  smiling. 
"Still,  I  thought  your  friend  was  older,  more  Lady 
O'Brien's  contemporary." 

"Oh!  he  knew  her  when  he  was  quite  a  young  fellow 
and  she  was  a  married  woman,  long  after  she  took  Peter," 
said  Hugh. 

"  Dear  boy !"  said  Aline.     "  Peter!" 

"Well,  doesn't  she  always  call  him  so  herself?"  pleaded 
Hugh,  unabashed. 

"  Why,  he  has  a  son  no  older  than  you,  Aline,"  said 
Cusha,  the  younger  of  the  twins. 

"  Oh,  a  son!"  said  Aline;  "and  where  is  he?" 

"  They  don't  know.     He  went  with  a  party  to  Kabul, 


218  THE  HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

and  the  vhole  of  them  disappeared.  'Awkins  thinks  it 
as  likely  as  not  that  he  was  tortured  and  killed." 

"  Cusha!"  cried  I,  "  have  you  been  talking  to  Hawkins  ? 
Not  'Awkins,  remember." 

"  'Awkins  he  calls  himself,  and  I  did  talk  to  him  a  little, 
wee  bit." 

"  The  twins,"  said  Hugh,  with  a  grin, "  think  no  end  of 
Hawkins.  Why,  they're  always  talking  to  him,  and  the 
General  knows,  and  says  Hawkins  will  teach  them  nothing 
but  good.  Why,  he's  drilling  them  now,  and  he's  teach- 
ing them  to  ride!  He  says  they're  the  gamiest  little  ladies 
he  ever  heard  tell  on." 

"  I  hope  they  haven't  been  running  wild,"  said  Aline, 
with  an  apprehensive  glance  at  me. 

However,  I  was  sure  the  General  was  right,  and  that 
his  soldier-servant  was  fit  to  be  trusted  with  our  little 
sisters. 

A  day  or  two  later  the  General  and  Lady  O'Brien  met 
at  Brandon,  and  such  a  delightful  interchange  there  was 
of  reminiscence  and  compliment  that  we  younger  ones 
hardly  got  in  a  word.  Esther,  I  thought,  after  her  absence, 
looked  listless  and  preoccupied.  I  was  very  anxious  to 
know  how  affairs  were  going  with  her,  and  got  her  to 
myself  after  a  while.  But  she  had  really  nothing  to  tell. 
Her  lover  had  wished  to  write  to  her  during  their 
absence  from  each  other,  but  she  had  forbidden  it,  and 
then,  woman-like,  she  was  half -sorry. 

"  He  hates  the  secrecy  as  much  as  I  do,"  she  said,  wring- 
ing her  hands,  "  and  is  always  anxious  to  speak.  Now  I 


I   VISIT  THE   GREAT   WORLD.  219 

think  I  shall  let  him.  I  do  not  feel  that  we  are  so  help- 
less now  that  I  have  gran. " — by  this  name  she  had  come 
to  call  Lady  O'Brien, — "and  I  am  sure  the  General  would 
help  us  if  we  needed  help.  I  used  to  feel  that  we  were 
only  a  parcel  of  friendless  girls  and  children  caught  in 
the  net  of  that  wicked  old  spider  who  ruined  us." 

She  shuddered  violently. 

"I  dream  of  Sir  Rupert  at  nights,  of  him  and  that 
wicked  man  of  his — terrible  dreams  of  injury  and  death 
to  my  Harry.  I  can't  make  him  see  his  grandfather  as 
I  see  him,  nor  believe  the  necessity  of  watching  him  as 
one  would  watch  a  wild  beast.  I  have  the  fear  for  two, 
the  loneliness  and  the  helplessness." 

"  Poor  Essie ! "  I  said ;  "  you  are  all  nerves.  Why,  how 
you  tremble!  This  must  be  put  a  stop  to,  Essie,  or  I'll 
speak  myself.  After  all,  what  can  Sir  Rupert  do  except 
turn  his  grandson  adrift?  We  are  in  a  law-abiding 
country,  more  or  less,  within  reach  of  police  and  magis- 
trates, and  the  strong  arm  of  the  law  generally.  You  are 
making  yourself  nightmares,  darling." 

"  That  is  what  Harry  says ;  but  I  cannot  shake  off  the 
fear.  Do  you  remember  that  when  I  was  a  child  I  used 
to  dream  of  him,  of  Sir  Rupert  and  his  dogs,  and  scream 
out  at  nights.  It  is  so  lonely  up  there  at  Angry  that 
anything  might  be  done,  and  no  one  a  whit  the  wiser." 

"  Now,  Essie,"  said  I,  "if  this  goes  on  you'll  make  your- 
self ill,  and  then  who  is  to  see  after  Harry?  He  is  wiser 
than  you  are.  Let  him  tell  Lady  O'Brien  that  you  love 
each  other,  and  let  him  tell  Aline  also.  Promise  me  that 


220  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

you  will.  I  am  sure  you  will  not  find  Aline  hard,  and 
your  godmother  will  be,  I  am  sure,  all  on  your  side." 

Esther  promised  me,  and  looked  happier  when  she  had 
given  the  promise. 

A  day  or  two  later  something  very  surprising  and  de- 
lightful happened.  The  General  came  over  to  see  Aline 
in  the  afternoon,  and  mentioned  in  the  course  of  conver- 
sation that  he  had  to  go  to  London  on  business,  which 
would  probably  occupy  him  a  week. 

"  I  shall  stay  with  my  sister  in  Bloomsbury,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  was  thinking  that  you  might  perhaps  be  so  kind 
as  to  trust  Miss  Hilda  to  my  care.  There  is  a  little  bit 
of  •  business  we  might  be  about  arranging  while  we're 
there." 

"  It  would  be  very  nice  for  her,  General,  and  she  has 
had  no  holiday,  poor  dear!"  said  Aline.  "It  is  very  kind 
of  you,  indeed.  But  the  business?" 

"Ah!  Miss  Brandon,  that  is  Miss  Hilda's  secret,  unless 
she  likes  to  share  it  with  you." 

"Are  you  sure  she  knows  it  herself,  General?"  said  I, 
with  a  wild  hope  springing  up  in  my  heart. 

"  Well,  this  is  the  way  of  it,  Miss  Brandon,"  said  the 
General.  "This  very  industrious  young  lady  has,  it 
seems,  not  only  arranged  my  library  for  me,  like  a  born 
librarian,  and  even  begun  to  catalogue  it,  but  she  has 
written  a  novel,  or  the  big  end  of  one,  during  your 
summer  holiday." 

"A  novel,  Hilda!"  cried  Aline  with  hands  upraised. 

"And  a  very  excellent  one,  if  I'm  any  judge  at  all,"  said 


I   VISIT   THE   GREAT  WORLD.  221 

the  General;  "but  we  want  an  expert  opinion,  and  I'm 
going  to  ask  my  old  friend  Linklater,  of  Linklater,  Lee, 
&  Warner,  Paternoster  Square,  to  pronounce  upon  it.  I 
believe  he'll  read  it  himself  for  my  sake,  and  let  us  know 
the  result  within  a  week." 

"Oh  dear  General!"  cried  I,  "what  an  angel  you 
are!" 

"  My  dear  child,  you've  been  very  good  to  me,  and  it's 
nothing  at  all,  nothing,"  said  the  General  hastily.  "  So  I 
may  write  to  Lucy,  Miss  Brandon,  to  say  I'm  bringing 
a  young  lady?" 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  General  It  won't  be  trouble- 
some to  Miss  MacNeill?" 

"  Lucy'll  be  delighted.  She'll  be  for  taking  the  child  to 
half  the  societies  in  London  that  affect  her  particular 
views.  Lucy  is  a  good  soul,  though  we  don't  agree  on 
many  points.  There,  Miss  Hilda,  don't  look  alarmed. 
You  and  I  are  going  to  have  a  real  good  holiday-time 
and  see  the  sights.  Lucy  shall  only  have  you  when  there's 
something  really  pleasant  to  see  or  do." 

I  made  joyful  arrangements  for  my  little  expedition, 
and  the  question  of  frocks  was  set  at  ease  by  Lady 
O'Brien's  having  just  presented  me  with  an  autumn  out- 
fit exactly  like  Esther's,  only  differing  in  colour.  A  long 
blue-gray  cloak  with  a  fur  collar,  and  a  smart  little  felt 
hat  with  an  eagle's  feather,  made  me  all  right  for  travel- 
ling, and  I  was  not  likely  to  have  social  engagements 
that  would  require  fine  indoor  raiment. 

The  journey  was  a  delight  to  me,  though  I  certainly 


222  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

got  a  little  tired  on  the  way  up  to  Dublin.  However,  a 
Turkish  bath,  which  the  General  prescribed  for  me,  and 
a  good  dinner  did  wonders;  and  afterwards  we  went 
down  to  Kingstown,  where  I  had  a  snug  little  cabin  to 
myself  on  the  mail-boat,  and  slept  all  night  like  a  top, 
Indeed  I  awoke  to  the  swaying  of  the  boat  and  the  swish 
of  water  under  the  port-holes,  and  to  hear  the  stewardess 
saying  that  we  would  have  just  time  for  breakfast  before 
getting  into  Holyhead. 

I  felt  it  delightful  to  be  taken  such  care  of  as  I  was  on 
that  journey.  A  man's  kindness  is,  I  think,  always  more 
touching  and  even  more  complete  than  a  woman's;  and 
the  dear  old  General  seemed  to  think  of  me  at  every  turn. 
Then  he  had  such  a  way  of  making  railway  porters,  and 
people  like  that,  fly  to  obey  him  that  we  seemed  to  get 
everything  done  for  us  sooner  than  other  passengers.  I 
could  see  that  he  "tipped"  generously,  but  it  wasn't  that, 
for  how  could  they  know  beforehand?  Perhaps  his  way 
of  looking  in  a  towering  passion  imposed  on  them,  though 
with  my  knowledge  of  him  it  made  me  laugh  to  think  of 
anyone  being  afraid  of  the  General. 

When  we  reached  Euston  our  luggage — there  was  not 
very  much  of  it — was  piled  on  top  of  a  hansom,  which  I 
thought  such  a  strange  and  delightful  vehicle,  and  the 
General  gave  an  address  which  I  did  not  catch,  but  which 
certainly  sounded  different  from  Bloomsbury.  When  he 
had  got  inside  he  explained  to  me. 

"  We  are  going  to  dine  before  we  go  to  my  sister's,  my 
dear.  My  sister  has  some  very  odd  ideas  about  food,  as 


I   VISIT  THE   GREAT  WORLD.  223 

you'll  discover  presently,  and  I  take  all  my  meals  out 
when  I'm  with  her.  But  when  we  get  to  her  you  must 
follow  my  example,  and  pretend  to  eat.  Don't  say  you 
have  not  had  your  dinner — there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
white  lie,  child — but  seem  to  eat  when  she  sets  the  things 
before  you." 

"  But  won't  she  know  we're  very  late  ? "  said  I. 

"  Not  she.  Lucy's  meals  occur  according  to  the  hours 
she  comes  in  from  her  committee  meetings.  She  never 
knows  what  hour  it  is  apart  from  those." 

We  had  a  most  enchanting  meal  at  a  very  gorgeous 
French  restaurant,  all  lit  with  electric  light  and  very  gay 
with  coloured  shades  and  flowers  and  mirrors — and  such 
odd,  odd  people. 

"I  thought  you'd  like  it,"  said  the  General,  highly 
pleased  at  my  little  cries  of  rapture.  "Personally  I 
prefer  the  Blue  Posts,  but  there  is  a  man  here  who  can 
cook  a  sirloin,  and  you  can  enjoy  the  kickshaws." 

I  did  enjoy  the  long  menu  very  much  indeed,  and 
rather  pitied  the  General  and  his  plain  fare.  When  we 
had  finished,  he  rose  up  and  uttered  a  sigh. 

"  And  now  for  Lucy,"  he  said. 

I  began  to  feel  rather  alarmed  about  Miss  MacNeill. 
However,  there  was  always  the  General  to  befriend  me, 
so  I  plucked  up  heart  of  grace. 

When  we  reached  Bloomsbury  Square,  the  houses  of 
which  seemed  to  me  very  high  and  gloomy,  the  door  was 
opened  to  us  by  a  pretty  little  maid,  who  beamed  all  over 
at  seeing  the  General. 


224  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  Well,  Phyllis,"  said  he,  "  how  are  you,  and  how's  your 
mistress?" 

"Quite  well,  thank  you,  sir.  The  mistress  has  only 
just  come  in.  She  will  be  with  you  in  a  minute,  sir." 

"  Just  take  this  young  lady  upstairs  to  get  her  hat  off, 
and  make  her  very  comfortable,  Phyllis.  Mind,  very 
comfortable,  like  a  good  girl." 

"  That  I  shall,  sir,"  said  Phyllis  with  a  pretty  smile. 

I  found  my  bedroom  very  dainty,  and  what  amazed 
me  in  London,  it  looked  into  a  great  chestnut  tree,  of 
which  the  leaves  were  all  a  warm  lovely  gold. 

"Why,  how  comfortable  I  shall  be,  Phyllis!"  said  I. 
"  It  all  looks  so  nice." 

"  Yes,  don't  it,  Miss?"  said  Phyllis.  " 'Tis  a  very  com- 
fortable 'ouse,  only  for  the  eating,  which  it  is  awful." 

I  noticed  that  Phyllis  pronounced  her  "h's"  very 
curiously,  but  I  shall  not  attempt  to  reproduce  her 
pronunciation. 

"  The  mistress  she's  vegetarian,  Miss,  and  expecs  every- 
one to  fill  'emselves  with  what  I  calls  garbage.  An'  as 
for  beer,  you  wouldn't  get  a  drop,  not  if  it  was  ever  so. 
But  cook,  she's  recommended  by  the  Vegetarian  League, 
an'  supposed  to  be  strict.  She  'as  a  joint  sent  in  reg'lar 
by  the  greengrocer,  an'  put  down  for  artichokes  an'  such 
like.  So  we  gets  our  bit.  There,  poor  girls  has  to  take 
care  of  theirselves" — and,  with  a  defiant  little  flounce 
of  her  head,  as  if  she  rebutted  my  imaginary  objections, 
pretty  Phyllis  marched  out  of  the  room. 

I  found  Miss  MacNeill  a  very  brisk  old  lady,  with 


I  VISIT  THE   GREAT  WORLD.  225 

bright  eyes  and  rosy  cheeks  and  white  teeth,  quite  like 
what  the  General  would  have  been  if  he  had  lived  at 
home  in  peace  and  a  temperate  climate. 

She  had  been  to  a  meeting  of  the  Anti- Animal  Food 
Society,  and  was  very  full  of  the  subject.  She  told  some 
very  dreadful  stories,  and  had  a  way  of  flinging  them  at 
the  General's  head  as  if  he  were  a  monster  of  cruelty, 
though,  I  am  sure,  poor  dear,  he  loves  the  animals  as 
much  as  anyone  could,  and  the  greeting  between  him 
and  his  sister's  asthmatic  pug  and  waddling  poodle  had 
been  very  pleasant  to  witness. 

He  bore  his  sister's  stories  wonderfully  for  a  while,  I 
suppose  because  he  was  conscious  of  his  own  deceit  about 
the  dinner.  At  last  he  got  testy. 

"Drop  it,  Lucy!"  he  cried;  "can't  you  see  you're  mak- 
ing this  child  quite  pale?  It  isn't  a  subject  for  dinner 
anyhow." 

"Yet,  Hugh,"  said  Miss  Lucy  with  a  little  spark  of 
battle  coming  into  her  eye,  "  I've  seen  you  sitting  down 
to  a  meal  of  bleeding  flesh  which  didn't  seem  to  repel 
you  the  least  bit  in  the  world." 

The  General  recovered  his  temper  suddenly. 

"  That  was  in  the  old  days,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

"Ah,  if  I  could  really  believe  you  were  changed!"  she 
sighed. 

"  Anyhow,"  he  said  hastily,  "  here's  this  child  sending 
away  her  food  untasted." 

I  thought  this  low  of  the  General. 

"  You  mustn't  take  things  to  heart,  my  dear,"  said  Miss 

(M436)  P 


226  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

Lucy  kindly.  "  What  you're  eating  has  caused  suffering 
to  nothing  that  lives.  There,  I  must  go  slow  with  you, 
I  see.  But  after  you've  been  a  week  in  this  house,  my 
dear,  you'll  never  see  meat  eaten  again  without  a  shudder. 
I've  just  brought  out  a  new  pamphlet,  Hugh — 'The 
Feeder  on  Flesh,  or  the  Human  Vampire'.  The  League 
tells  me  it  is  most  successful." 

"  I  dare  say,"  grunted  the  General.  "  But  what  is  this 
I  am  eating  now,  Lucy?  Some  sort  of  truffle?  It  isn't 
half-bad." 

"  We  call  it  vegetarian  beefsteak.  It  is  a  sort  of  toad- 
stool which  grows  on  rotting  bark,"  said  Miss  Lucy,  look- 
ing pleased. 

"Great  Heaven!  Lucy,  do  you  want  to  poison  us? 
Don't  touch  a  bit  of  it,  Hilda.  I  don't  mind  being  dosed, 
Lucy,  but  when  it  comes  to  being  poisoned  it's  another 
matter.  I  wish  you'd  tell  us  beforehand  the  constituents 
of  your  .  .  .  feeds." 

It  is  impossible  to  reproduce  the  contempt  and  loathing 
which  the  General  managed  to  impress  into  the  last  word. 
Miss  Lucy  smiled  placidly.  I  noticed  after  a  time  that 
when  the  General  grew  angry  she  became  calm. 

"  Ah,  Hugh,  Hugh,"  she  said  with  an  air  of  affectionate 
reproof,  "  if  you'd  only  give  up  your  horrible  bloodthirsty 
diet  how  your  temper  would  be  the  gainer,  to  be  sure!" 


CHAPTER  XX. 
FREDA'S   MYSTERY. 

MISS  LUCY,"  said  I  next  morning  at  breakfast,  "do 
you  know  the  way  to  Parson's  Green?" 

"  Parson's  Green — let  me  see.  It's  somewhere  beyond 
Chelsea,  I  think." 

"What  do  you  want  to  know  for,  child?"  asked  the 
General. 

"  I  have  a  sister  living  there  whom  I  wish  very  much 
to  see." 

"Ah!  you'd  better  go  to-day  then,  for  I've  to  spend  a 
tiresome  morning  over  business.  We  can  meet  again  in 
the  afternoon,  and  I'll  take  you  to  a  theatre  in  the  even- 
ing. Perhaps  Lucy  would  come  too." 

"Not  I,"  said  Miss  Lucy,  good-temperedly.  "My 
theatre-going  days  are  over.  I  wonder  that  you,  with 
your  convictions,  Hugh,  would  be  seen  in  such  places." 

"  I  saw  a  play  once,"  said  the  General  simply,  "  called 
'  The  Flag  of  England ',  The  hero  was  a  very  brave  man 
and  a  good  soldier.  I  thought  that  anyone  must  be  the 
better  for  seeing  it.  Of  course,  I  don't  know  much  about 
theatres,  Lucy,  but  I  thought  I'd  like  to  show  this  young 


228  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

lady  some  gaieties.  Perhaps  you  could  advise  me  where 
to  take  her?" 

"  I  was  going  to  offer  to  take  her  to  the  annual  meet- 
ing of  the  Society  for  the  Abolition  of  the  British 
Army." 

"  No  societies  please,  Lucy,"  said  the  General  a  little 
gruffly. 

"  I  forgot  you  were  a  man  of  blood,"  said  Miss  Lucy, 
"  and  didn't  mean  to  be  personal,  Hugh.  But  about  your 
theatres,  if  you'll  stick  to  Shakespeare  and  Adelphi 
drama,  I  think  you'll  be  quite  safe.  You'd  better  book 
seats  for  Irving  in  Henry  V" 

"Thank  you,  Lucy,  I  will,"  said  the  General  meekly. 
And  then  turning  to  me:  "  If  you've  quite  finished  break- 
fast, my  dear,  you'd  better  come  along.  I'll  put  you  on 
the  way  for  Parson's  Green." 

I  said  I  had  quite  finished.  I  had  eaten  a  little  por- 
ridge, but  found  nothing  else  that  I  could  eat.  Eggs 
were  forbidden  according  to  Miss  Lucy's  creed,  and 
though  she  had  made  a  concession  to  my  weakness  so 
far  as  to  allow  me  milk,  she  ate  her  own  porridge  with 
treacle  and  drank  her  coffee  black,  because,  as  she  said, 
"she'd  feel  that  she  was  robbing  the  innocent  offspring 
of  the  cow  if  she  were  to  do  as  we  were  doing." 

I  felt  rather  hungry  as  I  stood  up,  but  I  really  couldn't 
face  Miss  Lucy's  macaroni  and  haricot  beans  at  a  meal 
which  I  always  like  best  of  all  the  meals  of  the  day. 

When  I  came  downstairs  with  my  outdoor  things  on, 
Miss  MacNeill  looked  at  me  critically. 


FREDA'S  MYSTERY.  229 

"  What  kind  of  a  feather  is  that  you  are  wearing,  my 
dear?"  she  asked  a  little  sharply. 

•'  An  eagle's  feather,"  I  answered. 

"  I  hope  they  don't  tear  it  from  the  living  bird,"  she 
said  severely. 

"  It  would  be  worse  for  them  if  they  did,"  said  I.  "  It 
is  a  feather  the  boys  found  on  the  side  of  Brandon  which 
the  golden  eagle  had  dropped  from  his  wing." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  if  he  dropped  it  there  can  be  no  wrong 
to  him  in  your  picking  it  up?" 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  the  General.  "Be  easy 
about  Hilda,  Lucy.  She's  as  incapable  of  cruelty  as  you 
would  be  yourself.  You  won't  find  her  wearing  ospreys." 

" Oh  no,  indeed!"  I  asserted  fervently,  "I  wouldn't  if  I 
were  to  go  hatless  all  my  days." 

"  My  sister's  a  good  woman,"  said  the  General,  as  we 
went  down  the  steps  together,  "  and  is  right  about  many 
things  though  she  does  get  hold  of  the  wrong  end  of  the 
stick  often.  Still,  I  daresay  if  I  had  her  convictions  I'd 
act  up  to  them  as  she  does.  Aren't  you  hungry,  my 
dear?" 

"  I  am  rather,  General." 

"So  am  I.  I've  been  saving  myself  for  breakfast. 
There  is  a  quiet  little  hotel  near  here  where  we  can  get 
fresh  eggs  and  kidneys  done  to  a  turn.  Mind,  my  dear, 
you  are  never  to  make  yourself  ill  eating  Lucy's  messes. 
Fortunately  she's  not  very  observant,  dear  woman,  and 
you've  only  to  pretend  to  eat.  I'll  see  that  you  have  all 
your  proper  meals,  my  dear." 


230  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

We  had  a  very  snug  litthe  breakfast  together,  which  I 
enjoyed  the  more  that  I  had  been  making  up  my  mind 
to  endure  hunger  till  I  got  to  Freda's.  What  was  to 
happen  if  Freda  was  out  after  my  long  journey  I  would 
not  allow  myself  to  think. 

When  we  sallied  into  the  street  again  the  General 
accosted  a  very  burly  policeman  and  asked  him  the  best 
way  to  get  to  Parson's  Green. 

"There's  the  thrain  an'  there's  the  bus,"  said  the 
policeman,  to  my  surprise,  in  a  brogue  that  might  have 
walked  out  of  Brandon  village  yesterday. 

"Can  we  get  to  it  by  way  of  Threadneedle  Street?" 
asked  the  General,  whose  business  lay  that  way. 

"Ye  cud,"  said  the  giant  with  a  genial  smile  that 
robbed  the  speech  of  any  suggestion  of  impertinence, 
"just  the  same  way  as  ye'd  get  to  the  spot  I'm  stannin' 
on  be  way  av  Chaney  an'  Americay.  That  is,  ye'd  be 
turnin'  your  back  on  it  all  the  time  till  ye  pulled  up 
straight  forenint  it.  Now,  look  here,  sir,"  with  a  change 
of  tone  to  one  of  the  liveliest  concern,  "if  I  was  you  I 
wouldn't  be  putting  her  in  them  dirty  thrains  this  fine 
day.  'Tis  an  elegant  ride  a-top  o'  the  bus  from  Piccadilly 
Circus" 

"Is  it  too  far  for  a  cab  ride?"  said  the  General 
abruptly. 

"  Not  if  yez  have  the  money  to  pay  for  it.  'Tis  half-a- 
crown  be  justice,  three  an'  six  be  fairity." 

"  We'll  have  the  hansom,  then,"  said  the  General. 

"  Ye'll  be  makin'  no  mistake,  sir,"  said  the  policeman, 


FREDA'S  MYSTERY.  231 

"  an*  here's  the  best  horse  on  the  rank  just  trottm'  up  in 
the  nick  of  time." 

The  General  put  me  in  carefully,  and  then  pressed 
something  into  my  hand.  I  looked  down  at  the  gold  in 
my  palm. 

"  I  ought  to  go  with  you  by  right,  and  would  if  I  could, 
my  dear,"  he  said  with  a  face  that  admitted  of  no  denial. 
"Remember  this  little  holiday  is  entirely  my  affair. 
Have  you  silver?" 

I  said  I  had. 

"  Well,  then,  hansom  back ;  remember  I  shall  have  you 
on  my  mind  till  I  see  you  again.  But  your  sister  will 
put  you  in  a  cab." 

The  cab  journey  seemed  to  me  interminably  long,  and 
yet  there  was  no  sign  of  green  fields.  At  first  our  way 
lay  through  very  fine  streets,  with  beautiful  shops,  and 
crowded  with  such  traffic  as  I  had  never  dreamt  of.  I 
found  the  hansom  more  exhilarating  than  any  form  of 
progression  I  have  ever  known  since  I  used  to  ride  Pat 
Maloney's  colt  barebacked  in  the  old  days;  and  I  felt 
very  much  excited  about  going  to  see  Freda  and  her  dear 
little  boy.  Despite  an  occasional  qualm  of  doubt  about 
Freda,  my  affection  for  her  was  as  strong  as  ever,  and 
from  sheer  excitement  I  felt  myself  turning  hot  and 
cold. 

Still,  I  thought  it  must  be  a  long  long  way  to  Parson's 
Green  yet,  for  we  were  now  going  through  miles  of  mean 
little  streets  full  of  tiny  pea-soup-coloured  houses  all 
exactly  alike  and  indescribably  monotonous.  I  was 


232  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

amusing  myself  by  trying  to  discover  what  it  was  those 
wonderful  costers  were  shouting,  when  suddenly  the 
hansom  pulled  up  before  one  of  a  hundred  little  houses, 
and  the  man  shouted  down  on  the  top  of  my  head : 

"Now,  Miss,  Magnoliar  Cottage.     'Ere  you  are!" 

"Oh!"  cried  I,  "are  you  quite  sure?  Is  this  Grove 
Avenue  ?  It  isn't  at  all  the  kind  of  place  I  meant.  Are 
you  quite  sure  this  is  Parson's  Green?" 

"All  right,  Miss!"  he  replied  stolidly,  "Magnoliar 
Cottage,  Grove  Avenue,  Parson's  Green.  See  it  wrote  up 
there  on  the  corner  of  the  road." 

I  looked  and  saw  a  plate  with  "Grove  Avenue"  inscribed 
on  it,  and  above  the  door  of  the  house,  in  ridiculous 
stucco  work,  I  read  "  Magnolia  Cottage  ".  I  descended, 
bewildered  and  doubtful,  and  let  the  cab  go  half  un- 
willingly. There  must  be  another  Parson's  Green,  and 
when  I  had  discovered  my  mistake  how  should  I  ever 
find  another  cab  in  this  wilderness  of  shabby  little 
houses  ? 

However,  the  man  drove  off,  and  I  knocked  at  the 
door.  It  was  opened  by  a  little  maid  of  about  fifteen, 
quite  neat,  with  her  white  cap  and  apron,  and  quite 
unconscious  of  the  large  smut  on  her  little  perked-up 
nose. 

"  Oh,  please,"  said  I,  in  a  voice  which  was,  I  am  sure, 
full  of  distress,  "does  Mrs.  Hazeldine  live  here?" 

"  She  do,  miss,"  said  the  little  maid,  in  a  most  sympa- 
thetic voice.  "  Please  to  walk  in.  I'm  expectin'  of  her 
shortly,  an'  Mrs.  Vincent  too,  that  'as  gone  to  take 


FREDA'S  MYSTERY.  233 

Master  Jacky  a  walk  on  the  Common.  You've  'ad  'ard 
work,  I  expec',  to  find  the  'ouse.  Most  people  'as." 

She  ushered  me  into  a  little  room,  quite  pretty  and 
refined,  though  there  wasn't  an  article  of  substantial 
furniture  in  it  except  a  piano.  However,  with  frilled 
muslin  curtains,  and  a  few  water-colours  on  the  wall, 
low  chintz-covered  chairs,  and  a  hanging-shelf  of  books, 
to  say  nothing  of  a  canary  singing  in  the  window  and  a 
bow-pot  of  autumn  leaves,  it  was  surprising  what  cheer- 
ful results  were  obtainable.  There  was  the  tiniest  spark 
of  fire  in  the  grate,  but  it  was  burning  briskly,  for  the 
morning  had  a  touch  of  frost.  Still,  the  place  was  very, 
very  poor,  though  anyone  could  see  that  it  belonged  to 
ladies.  I  began  to  guess  dimly  that  our  dear,  loving, 
foolish  Freda  had  been  deceiving  us  all  those  years  since 
Jim's  death. 

Presently  there  was  the  click  of  a  latch-key  outside, 
and  in  came  Freda  herself,  looking  so  tired  and  worn, 
and  rather  shabbily  dressed.  She  cried  out  when  she 
saw  me,  and  we  flew  into  each  other's  arms.  When  she 
released  me  at  last,  she  looked  at  me  with  a  mixture  of 
shamefacedness  and  fun  in  her  expression,  which  recalled 
the  old  happy  Freda  of  long  ago. 

"  Well,  darling,"  she  said,  "  and  what  do  you  think  of 
Magnolia  Cottage?" 

"Oh,  Freda,  you  bad  girl!"  I  answered,  "why  did  you 
deceive  us  all  like  this?" 

"  It  was  rather  silly,  I  acknowledge,  for  I  was  sure  to 
be  found  out  some  time.  Still,  I  certainly  did  not  in- 


234  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

augurate  the  deception.  Aline  chose  to  believe  me  a 
rich  woman,  and  since  the  belief  seemed  a  comfort  to 
her,  I  let  it  stand;  I  thought  it  would  be  a  blow  to  her 
if  I  were  to  undeceive  her,  and  she  would  fret  about  us, 
and  want  Jacky  and  me  at  Brandon,  where  already,  as  I 
well  know,  there  is  little  enough  to  spare." 

"No,"  I  said;  "now  I  think  of  it,  you  never  did  con- 
tribute a  brick  to  our  air-built  castle.  The  only  thing 
was  that  you  seemed  to  stay  in  fine  houses,  and  meet  fine 
people,  and  all  that." 

"  In  some  houses  even  the  governess  is  allowed  to  meet 
the  guests, — not  in  all,  though." 

"  Still,  I  think  Aline  will  be  hurt,  Freda.  You  should 
have  trusted  her." 

"Ah!  well,  if  I  did  wrong  I  was  punished.  I  have  felt 
often  and  often  that  you  must  all  think  me  such  a  mean 
wretch,  rolling  in  riches,  and  never  doing  anything  for 
any  of  you.  I  often  felt  inclined  to  throw  it  up  and 
confess.  Perhaps  I  distrusted  myself,  for  there  have 
been  times  when  I  grew  tired  of  the  struggle,  and  if 
Aline  had  known  and  had  said  'Come',  I  would  have 
been  spiritless  enough  to  come,  and  to  stay.  Still,  the 
times  have  not  been  many,"  she  said  more  brightly. 
"  The  world  has  not  been  bad  to  me,  as  a  whole,  and  I 
had  always  my  dear  old  friend  to  come  to,  and  she  kept 
my  boy  for  me,  more  tenderly  than  I  could  myself." 

"  This  room  is  really  pretty,  Freda." 

"  The  rooms  are  all  pretty,  I  think,  because  a  woman 
like  Mary  Vincent  dwells  in  them,  and  imparts  some- 


FREDA'S  MYSTERY.  235 

thing  of  the  fragrance  of  herself  to  them.  In  Magnolia 
Cottage  it  is  possible  to  forget  Grove  Avenue." 

"And  just  think,  Freda;  we  took  your  house,  from  the 
extreme  rurality  of  its  title,  to  be  situated  in  a  delicious 
country  place." 

"  We  rather  run  to  rural  titles  in  our  London  slums. 
See,  over  there  is  the  '  Daisies',  and  next  door  the  '  Grass- 
plot',  yonder  the  'Hawthorns'  and  the  'Laburnums'  face 
each  other." 

"Who  lives  in  them?" 

"Usually  working-men  and  their  very  large  families. 
We're  considered  guilty  of  sinful  waste,  so  Polly,  our 
handmaiden,  tells  us,  because  we  don't  let  lodgings.  But 
come  upstairs  and  see  the  rest  of  the  domicile.  You'll 
take  off  your  hat  and  cloak  and  stay  for  a  good  long  day. 
Oh,  by  the  way,  you  haven't  told  me  yet  how  you  come 
to  be  here!" 

I  told  her,  as  I  was  taking  off  my  hat  and  washing  my 
hands, — which  I  was  surprised  to  find  seemed  to  require 
constant  washing  in  London, — about  the  General,  and  his 
business  and  my  business,  and  that  I  had  not  to  meet 
him  till  six  o'clock. 

"How  lucky  I  was  at  home!"  she  cried.  "We  are 
going  to  have  such  a  long  long  gossip,  for  though  Alirie's 
so  faithful  a  letter-writter  there  are  a  thousand-and-one 
things  that  never  get  into  letters.  Yet,  if  you  had  come 
last  week  you  would  have  found  only  Mrs.  Vincent  and 
Jacky.  I  have  just  left  a  place,  and  am  going  on  to 
another  next  week." 


236  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"You  poor  dear!"  said  I.  "The  last  must  have  been  a 
very  nasty  place,  to  make  you  look  so  tired  as  you  did 
when  you  came  in." 

"  It  was  rather  nasty,"  she  said,  "  but  the  next  is  going 
to  be  much  nicer.  It  is  in  a  lovely  part  of  Devonshire 
too,  and  I  shall  like  the  lady  to  whom  I  am  going." 

When  we  had  left  the  pretty  little  chintz-hung  bed- 
room and  were  seated  at  the  fire  downstairs,  I  asked 
Freda  how  it  was  she  came  to  be  so  poor. 

"  Jim  had  saved  nothing,"  she  said.  "  He  always  meant 
to,  poor  love,  but  he  was  so  generous,  and  then  he  never 
could  have  feared  that  his  wife  and  boy  would  want. 
You  know  his  parents  are  extremely  wealthy,  and  he 
was  their  favourite  son." 

"  Yet  they  let  you  want." 

"They  didn't  know.  I  must  do  them  that  much 
justice.  They  thought  I  was  left  comfortably.  But 
they  must  have  had  a  strange  opinion  of  me,  for  they 
offered  to  adopt  my  Jacky  and  make  him  heir  to  all 
their  money.  I  took  the  suggestion  as  an  insult,  and 
walked  out  of  the  house.  I  have  never  heard  of  them 
since,  and  I  am  sure  Jacky  and  I  have  disappeared  as 
effectually  from  their  ken  as  if  the  sea  had  opened  and 
swallowed  us." 

"What  horrid  people!"  cried  I  impulsively. 

"They  are  very  good  people  in  their  own  way," 
answered  Freda  quietly.  "But  they  are  bitterly  pre- 
judiced, Lady  Hazeldine  especially.  It  was  a  great  blow 
to  her  when  Jim  married  a  wild  Irish  girl  Especially  as 


FREDA'S  MYSTERY.  237 

she  had  wanted  him  to  marry  a  great  pet  of  hers,  a  city 
heiress  named  Cicely  Lambton.  She  had  wished  for  it 
almost  from  the  babyhood  of  both,  for  she  and  Mrs. 
Lambton  were  school-friends.  I  believe  she  thought  that 
if  Jim  had  married  an  English  girl  he  would  not  have  died." 

"Stupid  woman!"  said  I,  not  knowing  how  to  express 
my  indignation  against  Jim's  mother  to  Jim's  widow. 
"  Why,  she  ought  to  have  loved  you  a  thousand  times 
better  because  you  loved  Jim  and  he  loved  you,  and  you 
both  have  lost  him." 

"  That  doesn't  always  follow,  little  Hilda.  Perhaps  I 
shall  not  love  the  woman  who  will,  one  day,  step  into  the 
first  place  in  Jacky's  heart  and  evict  me." 

"  Tell  me,  Freda,"  said  I,  "  have  you  had  horrible  times? 
Is  it  so  bad  for  her  '  who  fareth  up  and  down  another's 
stairs'?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said  thoughtfully.  "  I  have  met 
hard  and  unkind,  as  well  as  gentle  and  kind  people.  Yet, 
on  the  whole,  I  am  not  sorry  that  I  have  had  to  work.  It 
would  have  been  worse  if  I  had  had  to  sit  down  with 
folded  hands  and  look  at  the  wreck  of  my  life, — worse 
surely  amid  the  Hazeldine  luxury,  worse  even  at  dear 
Brandon.  Ah,  no,  no!  work  has  made  it  possible  for  me 
to  live." 

Her  face  had  assumed  a  very  tragic  expression,  the 
face  now  of  a  woman  of  many  sorrows. 

"  It  has  been  sweet  too,"  she  went  on,  her  tense  expres- 
sion relaxing  a  little,  "  to  help  to  keep  up  this  little  home. 
Always,  if  things  grew  too  hard  for  me,  there  were  peace 


238  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

and  love  waiting  for  me  here.  Ah,  the  poor  women  with- 
out such  a  spot  on  earth! — how  I  pity  them!  And  then 
there  was  always  saving  up  for  me  a  delicious  thing  that 
I  looked  at  in  my  moments  of  leisure,  the  thought  of 
coming  home  to  Jacky." 

Her  face  softened,  and  went  back  into  the  little  round- 
nesses and  dimples  I  remembered.  Then  she  laughed, 
and  it  was  like  the  sun  coming  out. 

"Why,  here  is  Jacky!"  she  cried  out;  and  I  saw  a 
sweet- faced  elderly  woman  and  a  swaggering  small  sailor 
pass  the  little  bow-window. 

She  ran  out  and  opened  the  door,  and  with  a  word  to 
her  friend  came  back,  proudly  leading  her  son. 

"  Hullo!"  said  he,  with  the  free  manner  of  a  born  son  of 
Neptune,  "you're  a  pretty  girl,  but  you  aren't  half  as 
pretty  as  my  Muddie!" 

"Oh  Jacky,  Jacky,  you  rude  boy!  and  you  silly  boy 
as  well!  This  is  your  dear  pretty  Auntie  Hilda  come  to 
see  you.  Go  up  and  say  '  How  d'ye  do?'  nicely,  and  kiss 
her." 

"How  d'ye  do?"  he  said,  swaggering  up  to  me  with  his 
hands  in  both  pockets.  "  I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  like  very 
much.  A  guinea-pig,  or  else  a  white  rat.  You  don't 
happen  to  have  thought  of  bringin'  one?  Hey?" 

Freda  burst  out  laughing  even  while  she  tried  to  stiffen 
her  features  to  an  expression  of  rebuke.  I  looked  from 
her  to  the  curly  golden  head  and  blue  eyes  of  the  boy. 
Ah,  well!  Freda  is  a  happier  woman  than  most,  though 
she  is  a  widow  indeed. 


;  FREDA   CAME    BACK,    PROUDLY    LEADING    HER    SON 


CHAPTER  XXL 

FREDA    BREAKS    SILENCE. 

HALF  an  hour  later  we  were  sitting  at  a  pleasant  meal, 
and  I  was  only  sorry  not  to  be  hungrier,  for  the 
Magnolia  Cottage  of  my  imagination  could  not  have 
provided  more  inviting  viands  than  the  cold  fowl,  and 
rolls  and  butter,  and  honey  and  fragrant  coffee,  which 
made  our  lunch.  Freda  flushed  with  pleasure  when  I 
said  so. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  looking  towards  her  friend,  "if  any- 
body can  make  a  shilling  go  as  far  as  a  pound,  it  is  Mary 
Vincent." 

"  Hardly  that,  my  dear,  but  I  am  not  an  old  campaigner 
for  nothing,  and  the  advantage  of  living  in  a  slum  is, 
that  food  is  sold  at  prices  within  reach  of  the  poor. 
Then  I  spent  a  couple  of  years  of  my  girlhood  in  a 
French  convent,  and  learned  from  Sister  St.  Genevieve 
to  make  coffee,"  said  Freda's  friend. 

I  liked  Mrs.  Vincent  uncommonly  well.  She  was 
quite  plain-looking,  but  had,  I  thought,  one  of  the  sweet- 
est expressions  imaginable.  Her  hair,  too,  was  very 
pretty,  white,  and  with  a  wave  in  it,  a  striking  contrast  to 


240  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

her  olive-hued  cheeks  and  quick,  brown  eyes.  But  look- 
ing at  her  one  only  got  an  impression  of  the  goodness 
of  the  face;  the  irregular  features  and  small  eyes  and 
colourless  skin  faded  into  insignificance  as  compared  with 
that. 

Master  Jacky,  too,  had  his  chair  at  the  table,  beside 
Mrs.  Vincent.  I  must  say  he  behaved  very  well  for  so 
small  a  boy,  and  one  evidently  so  much  petted.  Except 
for  an  occasional  indiscretion,  such  as  asking  why  wasn't 
there  chicken  and  honey  every  day,  his  conduct  was  ex- 
emplary. Indeed,  with  regard  to  her  training  of  him  it 
was  evident  that  Mrs.  Vincent  had  not  been  a  soldier's 
wife  for  nothing.  She  had  a  number  of  military  words 
of  command,  which  she  uttered  with  an  immovable  face 
whenever  the  young  gentleman  seemed  on  the  point  of 
becoming  obstreperous.  It  amused  me  very  much  to 
see  the  boy's  prompt  obedience  to  them;  but  that  was, 
as  she  explained  to  me,  because  Jacky  was  to  be  a 
soldier  when  he  grew  up,  and  he  had  already  begun  his 
training. 

I  couldn't  help  thinking  that  she  was  probably  better 
for  the  young  pickle  than  his  own  dear  little  mother, 
whose  eyes  danced  and  twinkled  with  such  merriment 
when  Jacky  forgot  that  he  was  a  soldier  acting  under 
orders.  Mrs.  Vincent's  face  never  lost  its  sweet  serious- 
ness for  one  moment,  even  when  Freda  and  I  were  visibly 
merry. 

After  lunch  Mrs.  Vincent  carried  the  boy  off  and  left 
us  to  our  chat  There  were  so  many  things  we  had  yet 


FREDA   BREAKS   SILENCE.  241 

to  say  to  each  other.  After  I  had  told  all  the  home  news 
I  came  back  to  Freda  herself. 

"  Now  tell  me,"  I  asked,  "  what  a  '  nasty  place '  is  like, 
such  as  your  last  'place'?" 

I  made  a  wry  face  over  the  word,  which  seeing,  Freda 
laughed. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you,  dear,"  she  said.  "  In  taking  my 
last  place,  which  was  to  be  for  a  short  time,  I  thought 
I'd  depart  from  the  beaten  path  of  governessing,  which 
is  really  a  very  sad  and  lonely  life.  So  I  answered  an 
advertisement  for  a  lady  to  act  as  hostess  at  a  Bays- 
water  boarding-house,  to  take  the  head  of  the  table, 
receive  people  who  came  on  business,  and  all  that  kind 
of  thing.  The  salary  was  miserable,  but  the  place  sounded 
an  easy  one,  and  there  was  one  great  inducement.  I  could 
have  Jacky  to  stay  with  me  whenever  I  liked,  and  oh, 
my  dear,  if  you  could  know  the  pangs  of  loneliness  I 
have  suffered  for  want  of  my  boy  at  times!  The  thought 
of  a  '  place '  where  Mary  could  fetch  him  to  me  now  and 
again  for  a  few  hours  was  like  heaven." 

"Poor  Freda!" 

"Oh,  poor  Freda  indeed!  You  shall  hear  how  it 
turned  out.  I  found  the  woman  a  coarse,  red-faced, 
cunning-eyed  person,  not  at  all  more  prepossessing  be- 
cause of  her  oily  smile.  I  took  a  dislike  to  her  at  once, 
though  she  meant  to  be  very  amiable.  She  said  that  her 
business  was  so  large  that  she  could  no  longer  carry  out 
all  the  duties  of  hostess  herself, — she  required  another 
'  lydy '  to  help  her.  The  real  truth  was  that  she  was 

(H436)  Q 


242  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

conscious  of  her  own  deficiencies,  and  had  come  to  see 
that  she  lost  clients  by  receiving  them  herself.  She 
really  did  want  a  lady  to  coax  people  to  come  in." 

"  She  must  have  had  common-sense  anyhow,"  said  I. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  she  knew  well!  She  wasn't  sensitive, 
even  with  regard  to  herself.  She  told  me  that  my  duties 
would  be,  besides  presiding  at  table,  receiving  visitors, 
&c.,  to  do  such  small  household  tasks  as  a  lady  would 
naturally  do  in  her  own  house.  She  hoped,  she  said,  that 
I  wouldn't  mind  doing  a  little  mending." 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  I  said  I  didn't  mind  anything  in  reason.  Then 
she  took  me  upstairs  and  showed  me  my  bedroom.  It 
was  the  merest  attic,  but  I  could  see  a  tree  or  two  from 
it,  and  at  the  foot  of  my  bed  there  was  a  little  old  cot, 
which  clinched  the  matter  for  me,  for  I  imagined  Jacky 
in  it,  and  the  joy  of  undressing  and  dressing  him  myself, 
and  listening  to  his  soft  breathing  all  night.  So  I  said 
I'd  come,  without  further  ado." 

"Is  it  so  seldom  you  have  Jacky  to  yourself,  Freda?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  Hilda,  Mary  Vincent  has  been  like  his 
mother  so  long  that  when  I  come  home  I  don't  like  to 
disturb  the  existing  order  of  things.  She,  dear  woman, 
would  utterly  efface  herself  if  she  had  the  least  suspicion 
of  my  longing  to  do  everything  for  Jacky  once  in  a 
while.  But  when  I  come  home  she  thinks  I  need  rest, 
and  am  to  be  waited  upon,  and  will  have  me  lie  in  bed 
in  the  morning  while  she  does  everything  for  both  of 
us." 


FREDA  BREAKS  'SILENCE.  243 

She  sighed  a  little  wistful  sigh,  and  then  smiled. 

"  But  I  always  say  to  myself  that  I  am  Jacky's  mother, 
and  that  is  enough  happiness  for  me.  I  can  yield  the 
rest  to  her  who  loves  him  so  much  also,  and  has  never 
had  a  child  of  her  own.  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  had 
things  to  do  for  Jacky  that  I  daresay  I  should  be  awk- 
ward and  unaccustomed  now." 

"Poor  Freda!"  I  said  again. 

"And  rich  Freda,"  she  laughed.  "I  will  confess  to 
you,  Hilda,  that  I  got  over  my  first  great  pang  when  I  let 
my  friend  bathe  Jacky  while  he  was  yet  a  baby.  That 
was — " 

She  broke  off  abruptly,  and  I  knew  she  had  been 
going  to  say  "after  Jim  died",  and  then  had  choked 
over  it. 

"She  had  been  so  good  to  us — to  me  and  Jim — that 
when  I  saw  she  was  hungry  for  the  child,  I  stood  aside. 
She  never  guessed  that  it  cost  me  anything,  dear  soul! 
I  cannot  understand  now  how  mothers  give  up  the 
personal  care  of  their  babies  to  anyone  else  if  they  can 
help  it.  In  that  way,  at  least,  rich  women  are  not  so 
happy  as  poor  women." 

"But  the  boarding-house,  Freda?"  I  said. 

"  Ah,  yes !  I  was  forgetting.  The  money  was  very 
small,  but  having  Jacky  whenever  I  wished,  as  the 
woman  said  I  might,  outweighed  everything,  so  I  went. 
Mary  thought,  too,  that  the  duties,  being  light,  would 
not  wear  me  out,  as  I  have  been  worn  out  where  there 
were  half-a-dozen  energetic  children.  But  I  soon  found 


244  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

that  I  was  to  be  a  kind  of  white  slave.  I  was  to  be 
housemaid  and  housekeeper  and  hostess  all  rolled  into 
one.  Even  at  the  hour  when  a  servant's  duties  are  over, 
mine  were  going  on.  If  Mrs.  Tatlow — that  was  her 
name — saw  me  sitting  still  for  a  moment  she  found  new 
work  for  me.  Why,  after  a  hard  day  I  have  sat  up  till 
two  in  the  morning  mending  house-linen.  There  were 
years  of  arrears  of  mending,  all  waiting  for  me." 

"Why  did  you  stay  when  you  found  what  it  was 
like?" 

"I  couldn't  come  home  at  once,  because  I  had  been 
having  a  long  rest,  and  the  money  was  all  spent.  And 
Lady  A.  had  promised  to  secure  me  the  place  I  am  now 
going  to  in  Devonshire,  so  I  thought  I  would  stay  on, 
and  endure  it  without  complaint  for  a  while.  Then  the 
summer  came,  and  there  was  an  unusual  demand  for 
rooms,  and  Mrs.  Tatlow  came  to  me  one  day  with  her 
oily  smile,  and  said  she  had  been  obliged  to  take  my 
room  for  a  time,  and  if  I  would  not  mind  the  incon- 
venience of  sleeping  downstairs  she  thought  she  could 
make  me  very  comfortable.  I  said  I  shouldn't  mind,  for 
I  had  not  then  seen  the  room,  and  my  attic,  since  the  hot 
weather  set  in,  had  been  so  hot  that  I  thought  I  couldn't 
be  much  worse  off.  But,  oh,  Hilda,  if  you  had  seen  the 
room!  It  had  no  window,  but  was  lit  by  a  grating  in 
the  door.  It  ran  under  the  street.  It  was  dark,  noisome, 
unwholesome  in  the  last  degree,  for  it  had  only  been  in- 
tended to  put  brushes  and  such  things  in.  My  wretched 
little  bed  almost  filled  it  completely.  I  protested  when 


FREDA   BREAKS   SILENCE.  245 

I  saw  the  place,  but  quite  in  vain.  My  own  room  was 
already  taken." 

"And  you  slept  in  it,  Freda?"  I  cried  out,  horrified. 

"  I  could  do  nothing  else.  Mary  had  taken  Jacky  to 
Broadstairs — we  have  always  managed  to  give  him  a 
month  at  the  sea  every  summer.  This  little  house  is 
taken  for  that  period  by  two  maiden  ladies,  friends 
of  Mary's,  who  like  to  come  up  once  a  year  to  see  the 
pictures  and  shops.  I  had  nowhere  to  turn  to.  I  sat 
down  in  the  horrible  little  hole  and  cried  bitterly.  Then 
I  concluded  that  I  could  stand  it  till  Mary  came  home, 
and  so  I  set  my  teeth  to  it." 

"  The  woman  ought  to  have  been  put  in  prison,"  I  said 
angrily. 

Freda  laughed. 

"  That  is  precisely  what  Susan,  the  kitchen-maid,  said. 
'  She  did  ought  to  be  in  'Olloway,  that's  wot  she  ought.' 
Indeed  I  got  plenty  of  sympathy  from  the  overworked, 
badly-fed,  worse-housed,  kitchen  staff.  I  often  wondered 
at  the  warmth  of  their  partizanship,  poor  dears.  They 
were  worse  off,  as  far  as  sleeping  accommodation  went, 
than  myself,  though,  of  course,  a  servant  has  always  this  ad- 
vantage over  an  untrained  lady,  that  she  can  leave.  There 
are  so  many  of  us"  said  Freda,  with  a  watery  little  smile. 

"You  had  some  friends,  anyhow?"  I  said. 

"Yes;  though  I  wouldn't  listen  to  their  sympathy;  not 
so  much  for  my  dignity's  sake — that  sort  of  thing  levels 
human  beings  somehow — as  that  I  couldn't  bear  it  at  the 
time," 


246  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"You  poor  darling!'  I  cried,  embracing  her. 

Again  the  rainbow  smile  flitted  over  her  face,  and  she 
went  on. 

"  The  sympathy  that  really  touched  me  most  came  from 
the  ostensible  master  of  the  house.  Before  this  time 
I  had  only  seen  Mr.  Tatlow  flitting  along  a  corridor,  or 
diving  into  a  doorway  to  get  out  of  my  way.  He  was 
the  most  absurd  little  man  to  look  at — pale-faced,  tearful- 
eyed,  with  long  red  weepers  of  whiskers,  and  a  general 
miserableness  of  expression." 

"  So  well  he  might  have,"  said  I  acridly.     "  Well—" 

"  So  well  he  might,  my  dear.  Susan  informed  me  that 
he  had  to  clean  all  the  boots,  sometimes  forty  pairs  a  day, 
in  the  season.  He  was  the  most  oppressed  of  all  his 
wife's  victims." 

"  Why  didn't  he  assert  himself,  then?" 

"Oh,  Hilda,  you  should  have  seen  him!  Poor  little 
soul!  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  make  you  feel  it  to 
be  so  tragic  that  they  should  be  men  and  yet  like  that. 
Coventry  Patmore  makes  his  plain  heroine  talk  of  the 

sadness — 

"That  God  should  e'er 
Make  women,  and  not  make  them  fair  ". 

But  the  tragedy  of  men  like  poor  little  Mr.  Tatlow  is 
sadder  still" 

"How  did  he  show  his  sympathy?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  poor  little  soul !  by  facing  his  wife  for  me  with 
the  spirit  of  a  lion.  He  was  miserably  afraid  of  her,  yet 
he  did  that.  And  he  apologized  to  me  with  a  delicacy 


FKEDA  BREAKS   SILENCE.  247 

and  good  feeling  that  showed  he  had  the  heart  of  a 
gentleman  in  his  poor  little  frame." 

"He  could  do  nothing?" 

"  No,  only  get  himself  into  hot  water  by  his  champion- 
ship of  me.  I  believe  the  woman  was  horribly  violent 
when  she  was  angry.  She  vented  all  her  violence  on  him, 
for  though  she  was  savagely  angry  with  me  she  said 
nothing.  I  only  knew  it  by  her  glance  of  malevolence 
when  she  thought  herself  unnoticed." 

"And  you  slept  a  month  in  that  dog-hole?" 

"No,  I'm  ashamed  to  say  I  didn't.  I'm  not  made  of 
the  martyr- stuff.  I  had  been  ten  days  or  so  in  it  when 
Lucy,  the  chamber-maid,  told  Miss  Dahlia  Warner,  an 
American  who  was  staying  in  the  house,  about  my  habita- 
tion. Miss  Warner  was  very  rich,  very  pretty,  and  very 
spirited.  She  came  down  and  saw  the  place  for  herself. 
'Now,  why  did  you  do  it,  Mrs.  Hazeldine?'  she  asked; 
'  don't  you  know  it  was  self-murder  ?  Look  at  yourself 
in  the  glass!'  I  did  so,  and  saw  a  very  white  face  and 
very  big  eyes.  '  Besides,  you  are  encouraging  that  wretch 
to  treat  some  other  helpless,  poor  creature  in  just  the 
same  way.' 

"  Then  I  burst  out  crying,  and  she  suddenly  put  her 
arms  about  me  affectionately.  'There,  I  am  worrying 
you,  you  poor  little  thing!'  she  cried;  'as  if  you  had  not 
had  enough  to  bear  already.  Come  up  to  my  room  and 
tell  me  all  about  it.  The  woman  is  out,  but  if  she  were 
not,  she  wouldn't  dare  to  question  me." 

So  I  went  with  her,  and,  being  broken  down  by  her 


248  THE   HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

sympathy,  I  told  her  everything.  When  I  had  finished, 
she  said  to  me,  'There!  Can  you  get  your  things  together 
in  a  quarter  of  an  hour?  Yes,  I  am  sure  you  can,  for 
that  kind  creature  downstairs  will  help  you.  You  are 
coming  with  me  to  the  Cecil  as  my  guest  for  a  fortnight, 
and  as  long  afterwards  as  you  will  stay/ 

And  so  she  carried  me  off.  She  returned  later  on  for 
her  own  luggage,  paid  Mrs.  Tatlow  for  her  board,  and 
gave  that  good  lady  a  stinging  little  bit  of  her  mind. 
The  woman  was  obsequious  to  her,  for  her  main  business 
is  with  Americans,  and  she  dreaded  the  mischief  Miss 
Warner  might  do  her.  But  for  all  that  she  kept  my 
pretty  things." 

'•Your  pretty  things,  Freda?" 

"Yes.  She  came  here  on  some  excuse  after  I  had 
promised  to  go  to  her,  and  saw  my  pretty  things,  my 
bits  of  ivory  and  silver  and  lacquer  that  used  to  be  in 
our  little  home  at  Oodeypore.  No  matter  how  poor  I 
was,  I  would  never  part  with  them.  She  insisted  on 
my  bringing  them  with  me  to  decorate  her  drawing- 
room,  and  now  she  holds  them  in  default  of  the  warning 
she  says  I  ought  to  have  given  her." 

"  But  she  can't  keep  them,  surely?" 

"Oh  no!  she  will  give  them  up.  It  is  only  what  Miss 
Warner  calls  a  game  of  bluff.  That  good  friend  was  re- 
called suddenly  to  America,  and  since  I  would  not  go 
with  her,  as  she  wanted,  she  put  me  and  my  affairs  in 
charge  of  her  betrothed,  who  is  a  young  solicitor  in  an 
old  firm  in  Chancery  Lane.  He,  Mr.  Douglas,  says  that 


FREDA   BREAKS   SILENCE.  249 

Mrs.  Tatlow  is  only  squirming  a  little  before  giving  up 
the  things.  So  we  shall  let  her  squirm." 

"  And  now,"  Freda  said,  "  let  us  have  some  tea,  for  I 
seem  to  have  been  talking  an  incredible  amount." 

When  she  had  ordered  the  tea,  I  said  to  her: 

"Is  Aline  to  hear  this,  Freda?" 

"I  think  not,"  she  said  wistfully,  "unless  you  think 
that  I  had  better  own  up  to  everything.  But  it  would 
only  grieve  her." 

"  Indeed,  I  think  you  are  right,"  I  said.  "  It  would 
nearly  break  her  heart.  I  think  you  were  cruel  to  us 
too,  Freda,  to  endure  such  things." 

"  Well,  it  was  not  for  very  long,"  she  answered. 

"I  hope  that  'place'  was  quite  exceptional,"  I  said, 
again  mouthing  the  distasteful  word,  and  with  a  severe 
aspect. 

"  Oh,  quite !  There  aren't  many  Mrs.  Tatlows  in  this 
world.  By  the  way,  Hilda,  since  the  mood  for  confession 
is  upon  me,  I  may  as  well  own  up  something  else." 

"What!  more  boarding-houses?"  I  cried. 

"Oh,  no!  I  am  done  with  boarding-houses.  But  what 
will  you  say  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  been  lady's-maid 
to  Lady  A." 

"  A  real  lady's-maid!  Not  a  sort  of  lady  lady's-maid?" 
I  exclaimed,  rather  horrified. 

"I  thought  you  would  be  shocked.  Yet  it  was  the 
pleasantest  work  I  have  ever  had.  She  is  very  beautiful, 
and,  in  her  odd,  flighty  way,  very  kind.  I  used  to  love 
doing  her  long  ashy-coloured  hair.  It  was  down  to  her 


250  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

feet  when  I  used  to  brush  it  out  at  night.  I  often  brushed 
it  till  I  could  scarcely  stand,  for  the  pleasure  of  handling 
it." 

"You  were  not  like  an  ordinary  servant,  Freda, 
surely?" 

"  Oh,  no!  though  I  was  prepared  to  accept  that  when  I 
went  to  Overton  Towers.  But  I  found  a  little  room 
allotted  to  me  close  by  Lady  A/s  own  rooms,  and  she 
had  given  orders  that  I  was  to  have  my  meals  there.  So 
I  was  not  with  the  other  servants,  and  when  I  wasn't  on 
duty  I  could  read  or  write,  or  do  anything  I  liked  in  my 
own  little  room." 

"  How  long  did  you  stay,  Freda?" 

"Well,  not  many  months.  Her  ladyship  said  to  me 
suddenly  one  day,  when  I  met  her  eyes  in  the  mirror: 
'  I  should  like  to  know,  my  dear,  why  you  are  masquerad- 
ing as  my  maid '." 

"What  did  you  say?" 

"  I  answered  her  quite  frankly.  '  Because  I'm  a  poor 
woman,  Lady  A.,  and  I  find  the  genteel  professions  too 
hard  for  me/  '  Well/  she  said,  '  you  are  everything  I 
could  desire  as  a  maid,  but  I'm  going  to  do  better  for 
you  than  leave  you  at  the  mercy  of  a  heartless  woman 
of  fashion  like  myself,  and  in  a  perfectly  anomalous 
position.  Besides,  you  make  me  look  a  hag  beside  you. 
I  shudder  when  I  see  your  face  near  mine  in  the  glass. 
I'm  taking  back  Cecile,  an  unscrupulous  wretch,  but  an 
admirable  maid,  for  I'm  more  comfortable  with  her. 
And  I'm  going  to  send  you  to  Mrs.  Des  Vceux,  an  ex- 


FREDA  BREAKS   SILENCE.  251 

quisite  old  blind  lady  in  Devonshire,  for  whom  you  will 
read  and  write  and  cut  roses — that's  all.  I've  kept  you 
so  long  to  make  sure  you'd  be  good  to  her.  And  now  I 
am  sure." " 

"  She  arranged  it  for  you  like  that?" 

"  Yes,  just  like  that.  I  was  to  have  gone  to  Mrs.  Des 
Voeux  in  a  short  time  after  I  left  Lady  A.,  so  I  came 
home  and  imprudently  spent  all  my  money.  Then  it 
happened  that  the  lady  whom  I  was  to  replace,  whose 
marriage  was  leaving  the  vacancy  for  me,  had  to  post- 
pone her  departure  for  six  months.  So  I  was  rather 
thrown  on  my  beam-ends,  and  that  is  how  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  making  Mrs.  Tatlow's  acquaintance." 

"  And  I  suppose  Mrs.  Des  Voaux's  will  be  a  case  of  'and 
they  lived  happy  ever  afterwards'?" 

Freda  gave  a  little  shudder. 

"  Oh,  no,  Hilda !     I  hope  I  shall  have  a  house  of  my 
own  one  day,  though  I  don't  see  how  it's  going  to  happen. 
Servitude  is  all  very  well  so  long  as  one  is  young,  but — 
she  ended  with  an  expressive  little  gesture,  flinging  out 
both  her  hands. 

"Freda,"  said  I  impulsively,  "have  you  ever  had  an 
offer  of  marriage  in  those  years  of  your  wanderings?" 

"  An  embarrassment,  Hilda.  My  suitors  have  ranged 
in  age  from  sixteen  to  sixty — nay,  seventy-five — and  in 
eligibility  from  the  ownership  of  a  pocket-knife  and 
three  white  mice  to  the  ownership  of  an  iron-foundry 
and  a  steam  yacht." 

"And  you  never  met  anyone  you  could  say  'yes'  to?" 


252  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

Freda's  merry  face  changed  all  at  once,  and  a  wounded 
red  flew  into  her  soft,  pale  cheeks. 

"  You  are  only  a  child,  Hilda,"  she  said  coldly,  "  and  so 
I  forgive  you." 

"Oh,  Freda,"  I  cried,  "I  didn't  think  you'd  care  so 
much!" 

"I  am  Jim's  wife,"  she  answered,  "as  well  as  Jim's 
widow!" 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

BOOKS    AND     SOLDIERS. 

fTlHE  day  after  I  saw  Freda  I  went  with  General  Mac- 
-L  Neill  to  call  on  his  friend,  Mr.  Linklater.  I  can  tell 
you  my  heart  beat  as  we  went  in  through  the  narrow 
nest  of  streets  that  make  the  publishing  quarter,  and  I 
saw  names  on  the  street  corners  that  told  me  we  were  in 
the  heart  of  my  Mecca.  Paternoster  Row,  Ave  Maria 
Lane,  Amen  Corner, — I  whispered  the  names  to  myself 
as  softly  as  though  I  were  a  votary. 

We  went  through  a  narrow  passage  into  a  kind  of 
shop  on  the  first-floor  of  a  tall  house,  but  no  one  was 
buying  or  selling.  Only  a  clerk  sat  at  a  desk,  with  a  pen 
behind  his  ear.  amid  walls  of  books  in  bundles  of  brown 
paper,  or  standing  in  piles  in  their  outer  wrappings. 

"Mr.  Linklater,  sir?"  he  said  in  answer  to  the  General; 
"I  will  see  if  he  is  in.  Will  you  and  the  lady  step  in 
here?" 

We  followed  him  into  a  stuffy  room,  ventilated  only  by 
a  window  opening  on  the  outer  office.  The  walls  of  the 
room  were  of  muffled  glass,  and  when  the  clerk  had 
switched  on  the  electric  light  and  left  us  I  was  free  to 


254  THE   HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

walk  about  and  look  at  the  books  published  by  the  firm 
which  stood  about  on  tables  and  shelves.  Would  mine 
ever  be  there,  I  wondered,  as  we  waited! 

The  General  had  taken  off  his  hat  and  was  mopping 
his  brows  with  his  handkerchief  while  he  grumbled  at 
the  stuffiness  of  the  place.  It  was  stuffy — but  I  didn't 
mind  it  a  bit.  I  thought  I  should  love  to  be  one  of  the 
people  whose  shadows  I  could  see  passing  along  the  glass 
corridors — to  breathe  and  smell  books  all  day,  to  see 
famous  authors,  and  handle  proofs. 

Presently  the  clerk  returned  to  us  and  asked  us  to 
follow  him.  We  went  up  in  a  comfortable  padded  lift, 
which  in  itself  was  a  delightful  experience  to  me.  Then 
the  clerk  opened  the  door,  and  we  stepped  out  into  a  long 
corridor.  He  knocked  at  a  door  which  stood  a  little  open, 
and  in  answer  to  a  "  Come  in  "  he  ushered  us  across  the 
threshold,  and  left  us  with  a  low  bow. 

A  tall,  dusty,  untidy  man  came  to  meet  us,  and  greeted 
the  General  very  warmly.  I  stood  in  the  background 
and  looked  at  him.  His  reddish-brown  hair  was  sprinkled 
thickly  with  gray.  He  wore  a  very  old  coat,  the  lapels 
of  which  bore  some  traces  of  tobacco  ash.  He  had  a  rough 
grayish-brown  beard  and  bright  shrewd  hazel  eyes.  He 
seemed  as  if  he  were  always  running  his  hands  through 
his  hair  in  desperation,  and  as  if  he  had  slept  in  his 
clothes. 

So  much  I  noticed  while  the  old  friends  were  greeting 
each  other.  Then  the  two  turned  to  me. 

"And  so  this  is  the  author  of  Love  in  the  Valley  \"  said 


BOOKS   AND   SOLDIERS.  255 

the  great  publisher  in  a  singularly  musical  voice.  "Upon 
my  word,  I  could  not  have  believed  it  was  such  young 
work,  General." 

"Ah!  Miss  Brandon  is  very  old  for  her  age,"  replied 
the  General,  highly  delighted  at  the  implied  compliment 
to  the  book.  "You've  been  reading  it,  Linklater?" 

We  had  sent  in  the  manuscript  before  leaving  home. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Linklater,  still  looking  at  me  very 
kindly;  "I've  dipped  into  the  early  chapters.  I  think 
well  of  it,  very  well,  for  a  first  book.  It  isn't  a  Jane 
Eyre,  you  know,  nor  a  Wuthering  Heights.  Still,  'tis 
pleasant  reading,  and  very  hopeful." 

"  That's  all  we  wanted  you  to  say,"  said  the  General,  a 
bit  testily.  "  We're  not  fools  about  our  first  book,  are 
we,  Hilda?" 

"  Indeed,"  said  I  truthfully,  "  Mr.  Linklater's  verdict  is 
far  kinder  than  I  had  dared  to  hope  for." 

The  publisher  looked  away  from  me  as  if  the  subject 
were  done  with. 

"  And  how  are  pheasants  in  your  part  of  the  world, 
MacNeill?" 

"Not  much,  Linklater.  Poaching  has  been  rampant 
for  years.  There's  no  such  system  of  fat  and  comfortable 
preserving  as  you  have  here;  and  then  the  heavy  rains 
kill  off  the  young  birds,  all  but  the  strongest." 

"Ah!  that's  bad,  that's  bad.     Any  blackcock?" 

"The  mountains  simply  swarm  with  every  kind  of 
game,  from  deer  to  snipe.  But  nothing's  been  taken  care 
of.  My  place  has  been  derelict  for  years.  I'll  put  in  a 


256  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

couple  of  keepers,  and  next  year  you  must  come  and  judge 
for  yourself,  if  God  spares  us  all." 

"Why  shouldn't  He?"  said  the  publisher  hastily. 

"  Ah !  Linklater,  you're  a  young  man  still,  while  I've 
turned  sixty.  And  life  is  uncertain  to  the  youngest  of  us." 

"  So  it  is,  so  it  is!"  said  the  publisher,  as  if  the  question 
had  no  interest  for  him.  "I  hear  you've  good  trout  rivers 
over  there." 

"  The  best  in  Europe,"  said  the  General  heartily.  "  My 
cook  will  send  you  up  a  salmon-trout  if  you'll  come  over 
next  May  or  June — off  your  own  rod,  too — that  you'll 
never  forget  as  long  as  you  live." 

"You  were  always  a  lucky  dog!"  said  the  publisher 
enviously.  "I  suppose  there's  no  man  alive  hates  the 
smell  of  printer's  ink  more  than  I  do,  and  yet  here  I  am, 
condemned  to  it  all  my  life,  while  you've  been  living  the 
life  of  a  man,  fighting  half  the  time,  and  now  sitting  down 
to  enjoy  your  elder  years  in  a  half -wild  country  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey." 

"You  are  shocking  this  child,  Linklater,"  said  the 
General,  and  indeed  I  had  heard  him  in  amazement. 
"  Miss  Brandon  thinks  Paternoster  Row  the  centre  of  the 
universe." 

The  publisher  looked  at  me  kindly. 

"  So  did  I  when  I  was  her  age,  or  I  shouldn't  be  where 
I  am  now." 

"  Hear  him !"  said  the  General.  "Who  would  think  the 
man  was  one  of  the  finest  scholars  alive?" 

"  Grubbing  among  the  bones  of  dead  men." 


BOOKS   AND   SOLDIERS.  257 

"  My  lad  told  me  that  when  he  was  at  Oxford  you  were 
still  remembered  as  the  Bodleian  Bookworm." 

"  I  had  less  complimentary  names  than  that.  I  was  an 
idle  dog  in  those  days,  or  at  least  learnt  nothing  that 
could  bring  me  honours.  I  read  at  my  own  sweet  will, 
and  came  out  badly  in  the  Schools,  though  better  than  I 
deserved.  I  was  really  the  idlest  man  of  my  time,  except 
Fennings  of  New,  who  lay  all  day  in  a  hammock  with  a 
pack  of  cards,  and  played  the  right  hand  against  the  left 
when  he  could  no  longer  get  anyone  to  play  with  him. 
He  afterwards  became  a  great  colonial  administrator, — " 

"  And  you  a  scholar,  whose  scholarship  altogether  over- 
shadows you  as  a  publisher." 

"Well,  well,  I  ought  to  have  been  a  farmer,  and  tramped 
the  furrows  all  day  in  muddy  boots.  Books  are  not  living." 

"You're  an  ungrateful  fellow!"  said  the  General.  "If 
you  were  one  of  the  failures,  now?" 

"  Ah!"  said  the  publisher;  "  everyone  knows  in  his  own 
heart  how  much  he  has  failed  or  succeeded.  But  here  is 
Miss  Brandon,  a  beginner  still  at  the  cross-roads,  and  with 
the  will  yet  hers  to  choose  which  she  will  take.  You're 
not  afraid  of  hard  work,  Miss  Brandon?" 

"  Not  a  bit,"  I  answered  fervently. 

"You  can  bear  having  your  things  rejected  by  stupid 
editors  and  publishers,  while  they  publish  work  you  feel 
to  be  infinitely  less  good?  You  can  bear  to  see  popularity 
pass  you  by,  on  its  way  to  writers  whose  work  you 
think  beneath  your  contempt?  You  can  bear  to  see 
your  books  published  and  forgotten,  as  utterly  as  a  stone 

(  M  436 )  B 


258  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

is  forgotten  that  is  dropped  in  the  water;  and  to  endure 
the  stupidity  and  neglect  of  the  critics,  as  well  as  of  the 
public?" 

"I  can  bear  it  all,"  said  I  cheerfully. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  can,"  said  he,  with  a  change  of  tone, 
"you  will  find  the  roses  in  your  path  thicker  than  the 
thorns.  The  work  is  exquisite  for  its  own  sake,  and  if  it 
is  good,  and  it  wiU  be  good,  you  will  have  a  little  audience 
that  will  love  you  and  it.  You  will  never  write  a  word 
to  fall  on  deaf  ears.  You  will  find  even  a  few  critics  to 
believe  in  you,  and  say  so.  And  you  will  gain  the  most 
unselfish  friendship.  I  have  heard  of  envy  and  malice  in 
literature,  but  I  have  never  yet  discovered  them." 

"  Ah !  there  speaks  the  cynic,"  said  the  General ;  "  and 
yet  you  would  tramp  the  furrows  and  depend  on  the 
weather?" 

"  I  would  plant  cabbages  against  the  rainy  time,  so  that 
if  my  oats  were  rotting  my  vegetables  would  be  waxing 
fat.  The  weather  is  a  good  or  a  bad  fellow  according  as 
you  take  him." 

"  Well,  Linklater,  we're  taking  up  too  much  of  your 
valuable  time." 

"  I'm  the  idlest  man  in  London  this  minute." 

'  Well,  if  you  are,  come  and  lunch  with  us  at  the 
Cecil." 

"  Ah !  but  others  are  not  so  idle  as  I.  I  have  a  good 
many  people  to  see  before  lunch  time.  By  the  way,  we 
must  meet  again.  Suppose  you  dine  with  me  one  even- 
ing? I  want  to  hear  a  good  many  things  about  yourself." 


BOOKS   AND   SOLDIERS.  259 

As  we  went  out  Mr.  Linklater  drew  the  General  aside, 
and  said  something  to  him  in  a  low  voice.  I  guessed  at 
its  purport,  for  the  General  shook  his  head  very  sadly  in 
answer. 

"Ah,  well!"  said  the  publisher;  "I  wouldn't  give  up 
hope,  man.  Lance  was  always  a  fellow  of  so  much  re- 
source, and  again  and  again  men  have  returned  after  being 
given  up  for  lost,  as  he  has  been." 

"  And  many  have  not  returned,"  said  the  General. 
"But  thank  you,  Linklater,  for  your  sympathy  all  the 
same." 

"  We  are  both  lonely  men,"  said  the  publisher.  "  But 
you  have  yet  hope." 

"  And  you  have  certainty,"  said  the  General,  looking  up 
and  lifting  his  hat.  "  I  have  often  wished  I  could  have 
as  much." 

"Ah!  that  is  where  you  religious  men  score." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  General  simply;  "  I  do  not  know  where 
my  boy  is,  but  there  is  One  that  knows." 

The  two  men  shook  hands  in  silence.  Then  the  pub- 
lisher turned  to  me  with  his  kind  smile. 

"  We  shall  make  you  formal  publishing  proposals  in  a 
day  or  two,  Miss  Brandon.  It  would  never  do  to  arrange 
such  matters  during  a  morning  call." 

After  we  had  gone  out  in  the  street  the  General  told 

o 

me  that  Mr.  Linklater  had  lost  his  wife  and  daughter  by 
scarlet  fever  a  few  years  previously. 

"Poor  fellow!  poor  fellow!"  he  said;  "he  looks  as  if  he 
wanted  a  woman's  hand  about  him.  You  would  hardly 


260  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

believe,  Hilda,  that  I  remember  him  as  one  of  the  golden 
youth?" 

"  I  don't  think  the  carelessness  of  his  attire  misbecomes 
him,"  I  said. 

"Ah!  it  has  a  sad  look  to  me,  remembering  him  so  far 
otherwise." 

"  I  always  supposed  that  all  scholars  were  rather  dusty. 
Books  are  such  dusty  things." 

"  Linklater  was  the  exception.  His  wife  was  a  lovely, 
soft  creature,  and  devoted  to  him.  And  the  little  red- 
haired  girl  was  a  thing  of  such  light  and  colour  that  she 
seemed  more  like  a  bird  or  a  flower  than  a  human  crea- 
ture. It  is  hard  to  imagine  Death  stilling  all  that  wild 
and  gracious  life." 

"  Or  fixing  it  for  ever." 

"  True,  my  child.  He  carries  the  elixir  of  life  if  we 
would  only  see  it.  But  now,  how  are  you  pleased  about 
your  own  affairs?" 

"Oh,  dear  General,  how  could  I  be  anything  but 
pleased?  And  I  owe  it  all  to  you.  What  a  blessed, 
blessed  day  it  was  that  brought  you  to  Rose  Hill!" 

"It  was  blessed  for  me.  I  have  often  since  thought 
it  so  strange  that  we  should  have  been  brought  together, 
you  having  known  my  boy." 

I  said  nothing  in  answer  to  this,  but  as  we  were  in  a 
hansom  I  just  pressed  my  old  friend's  hand  to  assure  him 
of  my  sympathy.  Then  to  distract  his  mind  I  told  him 
about  Freda,  and  how  I  had  got  to  the  root  of  her  mystery. 
He  was  greatly  interested. 


BOOKS   AND   SOLDIERS.  261 

"  She  must  be  a  brave  creature,"  he  said,  "  though  I 
think  her  foolish  to  have  kept  you  all  in  the  dark.  But 
young  people  are  romantic,  and  will  take  views,  especially 
in  the  matter  of  self-sacrifice,  that  we  sadder  and  older 
ones  cannot  share.  And  there  was  no  wilful  deception; 
the  thing  seems  to  have  grown  up  of  itself.  But  don't 
you  feel  happier,  now  that  your  golden  castles  for  her  are 
all  in  ruins?" 

"  I  feel  as  if  my  sister  had  been  given  back  to  me,"  I 
said,  "  and  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  Aline  will  feel  just  the 
same  way." 

"Ah,  that's  right!  Better  to  have  her  heart  in  the 
right  place  than  to  have  her  a  rich  woman,  eh?" 

"  Much  better." 

"  I  fancy  I  knew  Mrs.  Vincent  at  one  time,"  he  said 
musingly.  "  At  least  I  remember  meeting  the  wife  of  an 
excellent  soldier  and  good  comrade,  Ned  Vincent,  of  the 
Frontier  Rifles.  I  heard  he  died  of  fever  up-country. 
I  wonder  if  it  could  be  the  same!" 

"  I  am  sure  it  is,"  said  I,  "  for  Mrs.  Vincent  always 
speaks  of  'Ned'." 

"I  had  no  idea  he  left  his  widow  poor.  Something 
ought  to  be  done  for  her  if  she  is  Ned  Vincent's  widow. 
I  wonder  if  I  have  enough  influence  at  the  War  Office  to 
try!" 

"You  had  better  make  sure  about  her  first.  Supposing 
we  go  to-morrow?  I'll  send  a  card  to  Freda  to-night." 

The  thing  was  agreed  upon,  and  the  General  and  I 
drove  down  to  Magnolia  Cottage  next  day.  The  General 


262  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

had  gone  out  in  the  morning  on  a  mysterious  business, 
and  several  brown-paper  parcels  of  odd  shapes  had  been 
left  afterwards  by  quickly-arriving  errand-boys.  I  didn't 
ask  what  the  things  were,  but  I  guessed  pretty  accurately 
without  the  assistance  of  Miss  MacNeill's  indiscretion. 

She  had  accompanied  us  to  the  hall-door,  and  noticed 
the  General,  with  a  pretence  of  there  being  no  secrecy 
about  the  matter,  carrying  his  parcels  to  the  hansom. 

"Now  whatever  have  you  got  there?"  she  blurted. 
"  Not  a  toy  drum,  surely.  You're  not  going  back  to  your 
second  childhood,  Hugh?" 

''Madam,"  said  the  General  in  his  angriest  voice, 
"  folly  and  meddlesomeness  are  not  confined  to  any  age, 
as  you've  the  best  right  in  all  the  world  to  know." 

And  he  stalked  away  from  the  gibe  I  saw  trembling 
on  Miss  Lucy's  lips. 

When  we  were  seated  and  packed  round  about  with 
very  angular  parcels,  he  explained  to  me  apologetically 
that  he  had  taken  the  liberty  of  bringing  some  toys  for 
the  little  soldier. 

"Your  sister  won't  mind,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "She 
will  forgive  an  old  man  who  once  had  a  little  soldier  of 
his  own." 

"  She  will  think  it  very  kind,"  I  assured  him,  and  indeed 
those  toys  were  a  passport  for  the  General  to  the  hearts 
of  the  two  women  who  loved  Jacky  more  than  all  the 
world. 

Mrs.  Vincent  proved  to  be  the  widow  of  the  General's 
old  friend,  and  as  they  seemed  to  have  a  thousand  things 


BOOKS   AND   SOLDIERS.  263 

to  talk  of,  Freda  and  I  left  them  together  while  we  made 
Jacky's  toilet.  It  had  been  made  earlier  in  the  day,  but 
he  had  undone  it  all  by  falling  into  the  bath  while  giving 
his  puppy,  Captain,  a  bath  in  honour  of  the  brave  soldier 
man  they  were  both  going  to  be  introduced  to. 

Jacky  certainly  looked  very  smart  when  we  had  got 
him  into  a  fresh  white  sailor  suit,  and  with  his  hair  more 
curly  than  ever  after  his  cold-water  dip,  presented  him 
to  the  General.  Jacky  immediately  stood  "  at  attention", 
with  his  finger  to  his  curls  as  a  military  salute. 

"  Why,  come  here,  my  brave  lad,  and  see  whether  the 
young  soldier  can  learn  anything  from  the  old  soldier!" 
cried  the  General,  beaming;  and  a  few  seconds  later  Jacky 
was  perched  on  his  knee,  showing  him  his  good-conduct 
stripes,  and  explaining  that  at  the  end  of  the  year,  if  his 
conduct  was  all  that  could  be  desired,  he  was  to  receive 
a  medal. 

"Where  are  your  medals,  old  soldier?"  Jacky  cried. 
"And  why  don't  you  wear  them  on  your  tunic  as  I 
shall?" 

The  general  explained  to  him  that  custom  required  the 
grown-up  soldier  to  dress  like  an  ordinary  citizen  at 
times,  and  then  he  described,  with  the  utmost  painstaking, 
so  that  a  little  child  might  understand,  the  various  medals 
he  had,  and  the  battles  for  which  they  were  given. 

Freda  and  Mrs.  Vincent  were  as  much  absorbed  as 
Jacky.  I  enjoyed  it  from  an  outsider's  point  of  view, 
thinking  how  pretty  it  was — the  old  man  with  the  child's 
heart  bringing  down  his  years  to  the  level  of  the  child's, 


264  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

and  the  two  women  with  their  pleasure  and  pride  in  it 
all. 

Presently,  when  they  were  quite  old  friends,  for  the 
friendship  advanced  by  strides,  the  General's  gifts  were 
offered,  and  received  with  such  shrieks  of  delight  on 
Jacky's  part  that  I  was  fain  to  clap  my  hands  to  my 
ears. 

When  we  left,  Jacky  played  us  out,  marching  back- 
wards and  forwards  as  he  had  seen  the  Highland  pipers 
do  in  the  streets,  girt  with  sword  and  drum,  and  with  a 
shrill  fife  at  his  lips,  so  that  all  Grove  Avenue  turned  out 
to  see. 

"A  brave  little  chap!"  the  General  pronounced  him;  and 
as  we  drove  away  he  leaned  from  the  hansom  to  look 
back  at  him.  I  thought  he  looked  sad.  He  was  think- 
ing of  his  own  soldier  boy,  I  made  sure. 

We  had  very  gay  times  after  that,  and  on  several 
occasions  the  General  took  Jacky  with  us  on  our  expedi- 
tions, bearing  with  the  child  so  patiently  and  sweetly  that 
I  thought  no  mother  could  have  done  more.  Not  that 
Jacky  didn't  behave  admirably.  He  had  an  immense 
admiration  for  "  Old  Soldier"  as  he  called  him ;  but  then 
a  lively  boy  of  six  is  apt  to  prove  a  handful  to  a  veteran 
with  a  gun-shot  wound  in  the  leg,  and  to  a  slightly- 
limping  girl. 

We  saw  the  Tower,  and  Hampton  Court,  and  Windsor 
Castle,  and  the  exhibition  at  Earl's  Court,  and  the  wax- 
works at  Madame  Tussaud's,  and  the  Crystal  Palace,  all 
with  Jacky  to  bear  us  company. 


BOOKS   AND   SOLDIERS.  265 

Then  the  General  and  I  saw  one  or  two  theatres,  and 
one  evening  we  dined  with  Mr.  Linklater,  and  it  was  all 
very  pleasant.  But  by  the  time  our  little  holiday  was 
up  I  was  beginning  to  feel  rather  fagged,  and  to  wish  for 
Brandon  and  the  library  at  Rose  Hill. 

The  very  last  morning  we  were  in  London  came  the 
publishing  proposal  from  Messrs.  Linklater,  Lee,  and 
Warner,  with  a  stamped  agreement  for  me  to  sign,  which 
I  did,  feeling  it  the  proudest  moment  of  my  life.  The 
book  was  to  come  out  before  Christmas,  and  the  proposal 
seemed  to  me  a  very  handsome  one,  for  I  should  have 
been  overjoyed  to  get  the  book  published  without  any 
suggestion  of  being  paid  for  it. 

However,  as  the  General  said,  that  wouldn't  be  business, 
or  at  least  business  as  an  honourable  firm  like  Linklater, 
Lee,  and  Warner  understood  it. 

I  couldn't  send  back  the  agreement  till  I  had  taken  it 
home  for  Aline  and  Esther  and  the  boys  to  see,  not  even 
if  it  delayed  the  book,  but  the  General  said  he  thought 
there  would  be  no  fear  of  that. 

And  now  that  I  had  to  look  forward  to  such  happy 
things — the  book,  and  the  reviews,  and  all  that — I  longed 
for  the  time  to  pass  till  the  published  book  should  be  an 
accomplished  fact,  and  Hilda  Brandon  the  name  of  a  real 
author. 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

ESTHER. 

I  WAS  welcomed  at  Brandon  as  rapturously  as  if  I  had 
come  out  of  a  long  exile,  and  delightful  it  was  to  see 
the  dear  faces  after  even  a  short  absence.  It  seemed  to 
me  as  if  I  had  been  ages  away,  and  I  was  rather  surprised 
that  the  ducklings  which  had  come  out  just  before  I  left 
appeared  much  the  same  black-eyed  balls  of  yellow  fluff, 
and  that  the  year  had  advanced  so  little  during  my 
memorable  eight  days  of  absence. 

I  had  so  much  to  tell  them  that  though  I  had  travelled 
all  night  I  did  not  feel  inclined  to  go  to  bed.  I  spent 
the  morning  over  my  unpacking  and  distributing  the 
little  gifts  I  had  brought  for  each  one.  I  kept  till  the 
afternoon, — when  the  young  ones  should  have  dispersed 
and  left  me  with  Aline, — the  wonderful  discovery  I  had 
made  about  Freda. 

Well,  Aline  didn't  know  whether  to  cry  or  be  vexed  or 
glad  over  the  knowledge  that  our  Freda — about  whom 
we  had  built  so  many  golden  dreams — was  after  all  in  the 
ranks  of  the  workers.  Yet  I  think,  on  the  whole,  the 
relief  of  knowing  that  she  was  the  same  dear,  generous 
girl,  only  empty-handed  now,  outweighed  all  the  rest. 


ESTHER.  267 

Then  my  stories  about  Magnolia  Cottage  and  Mrs. 
Vincent  and  Jacky  were  so  pleasant  that  Aline,  after  a 
bit,  grew  reconciled  to  Freda's  change  of  fortune.  I  gave 
her  an  imploring  little  note  which  Freda  had  intrusted 
me  with,  asking  her  to  forgive  the  deception,  which  was 
never  seriously  meant,  and  had  somehow  grown  up  of 
itself.  The  humility  of  it  brought  the  tears  into  Aline's 
eyes. 

"  I  will  write  to  her  at  once,  dear  girl,"  she  said,  going 
to  her  writing-table. 

As  she  looked  for  a  pen  a  sound  caught  our  ears. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "it  is  Esther!  We  have  not  seen  her 
all  the  week.  Entertain  them,  dear  Hilda,  while  I 
scribble  a  few  words." 

But  when  I  went  downstairs  I  found  the  pony  and 
phaeton  with  Dobson,  and  a  note  from  Lady  O'Brien, 
saying  that  Esther  had  a  sick  headache  and  was  being 
kept  in  bed,  but  longed  to  see  me;  and  would  I  drive 
over  and  stay  for  dinner,  or  the  night  if  I  would? 

"Yes,  go,"  said  Aline,  "but  you  had  better  stay  the 
night,  dear.  It  would  be  too  much  to  drive  back  here 
after  your  journey  last  night." 

So  I  put  one  or  two  necessary  things  into  a  hand-bag, 
and  drove  off  to  Annagower. 

When  I  went  into  the  drawing-room  I  found  Lady 
O'Brien  alone,  but  no  Esther. 

"  Your  sister  is  asleep,  Hilda,"  she  said ;  "  and  I  won't 
waken  her,  for  I  want  a  good  long  chat  with  you.  Just 
take  off  your  hat  and  cloak  and  come  to  the  fire,  and 


268  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

we'll  have  tea  in,  and  be  comfortable.  Have  you  a  pair 
of  slippers  in  your  bag  ?  Well,  just  put  them  on, — don't 
mind  going  upstairs.  You  look  rather  fagged  already." 

I  found  the  low  chair  and  the  footstool  before  the  fire 
very  comfortable  indeed,  for  I  was  tired,  but  by  no  means 
sleepy.  I  felt  that  Lady  O'Brien  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing, and  feeling  sure  that  it  was  about  Esther's  trouble, 
I  was  too  interested  to  be  sleepy. 

When  we  had  each  our  cup  of  tea  hi  our  hands,  and 
the  fat  page-boy  had  gone  out,  closing  the  door  behind 
him,  Lady  O'Brien  opened  the  matter  which  I  had  seen 
all  the  time  trembling  on  her  lips. 

"  Your  sister  has  told  me  everything,  child." 

"Ah!"  said  I.  "I  wished  she  would.  Has  anything 
new  happened?" 

"Nothing;  but  Esther  is  in  trouble.  We  have  heard 
nothing  of  young  De  Lacy,  though  I  have  written  twice 
to  ask  him  to  come." 

"  That  is  curious." 

"  It  is,  because  the  boy  is  a  gentleman,  and  because  he  is 
head  over  ears  in  love  with  your  sister.  I  have  seen  that 
all  along,  but  I  pick  the  locks  of  no  confidences.  I  knew 
that  presently  my  dear  girl  would  tell  me  of  her  own 
accord." 

"  He  may  be  ill." 

"  That  is  what  she  says.  She  keeps  saying  over  and 
over  that  she  can  never  undo  the  silence  of  the  last  few 
months,  during  which  he  may  have  been  ill  and  dying. 
She  has  fretted  herself  into  a  fever." 


ESTHER.  269 

"  I  am  afraid  he  is  not  very  strong." 

"  He  is  not  strong  enough  for  ill-usage.  He  would  be 
all  right  in  the  life  he  was  brought  up  to.  I'm  afraid 
Rivers  was  right  when  he  was  anxious  about  the  boy 
leaving  Brandon.  Where  there  is  internal  injury  it  is  so 
hard  to  know  whether  healing  or  hurt  is  going  on." 

"  What  are  we  to  do,  Lady  O'Brien?" 

"  That's  what  I  wanted  to  consult  you  about.  You  have 
a  clear  head  and  a  still  tongue.  Of  one  thing  I  am  certain. 
My  girl  is  not  going  to  have  her  tender  heart  broken  if  I 
can  help  it,  the  Lord  helping  me." 

She  got  up  and  paced  about  the  room,  all  her  little 
frame  tense  with  a  nervous  energy  I  had  not  suspected 
in  her. 

"You  think  it  has  gone  deep  with  Esther,  Lady 
O'Brien?" 

"  What  do  you  think,  you  who  have  been  her  dearest 
companion  from  babyhood?" 

"  I  think  it  is  once  and  for  ever." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  She  is  very  innocent  and  very 
romantic.  She  feels  that  she  has  been  waiting  for  him 
all  those  years,  and  about  him  all  the  dreams  and  the 
poetry  of  her  innocent  and  ardent  heart  have  gathered." 

"  You  know  as  much  of  her  as  I  do,  whose  dearer  self 
she  has  been  all  our  lives." 

The  old  lady  nodded  a  queer,  triumphant  little  nod. 

"Ah,  Hilda!"  she  said,  "love  is  a  wonderful  teacher, 
and  I  love  her  like  my  own  child.  I  would  do  everything 
within  the  law  of  God  to  make  her  happy." 


270  THE  HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

"You  don't  think  it  hopeless?" 

Lady  O'Brien  snapped  her  fingers. 

"Hopeless!  I  see  no  obstacle  that  other  people  can 
raise.  The  only  obstacle  I  would  acknowledge  would  be 
the  lad's  coldness  or  unworthiness  or — " 

She  broke  off  abruptly. 

"  Or  death,"  I  said  for  her. 

"  That  is  in  the  hands  of  God,"  she  replied,  "  but  I  pray 
that  He  may  will  this  girl,  the  joy  of  my  old  age,  to  be 
happy." 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do?" 

"  Propose,  child  ?  Well,  first  we  have  to  find  out 
what's  the  matter  with  the  boy.  I've  written  to  Sir 
Rupert." 

"What?"  I  cried. 

"Written  to  his  old  villain  of  a  grandfather,  who,  I 
expect,  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  mischief.  I  sent  a  boy 
with  it  on  one  of  your  wild  mountain  ponies.  He  ought 
to  be  nearly  back  by  this  time." 

"  You  didn't  tell  him— " 

"  I  merely  asked  for  an  interview.  I  had  thought  of 
driving  over  there,  but  I  was  afraid  the  rapscallion  would 
bar  his  gates  against  me." 

"  The  country  people  would  tell  you  it  wasn't  safe." 

"Pooh!  What  a  mass  of  superstition  Las  grown  ur. 
about  the  place!  Just  because  it  stands  in  a  dark  spec 
and  is  surrounded  by  unwholesome  weeds.  Why,  if  I 
could  have  hoped  to  ^et  past  the  gates,  I'd  have  gone  like 
a  shot.  Dobson  would  come  and  fetch  me  out  after  a 


ESTHER.  271 

certain  time.  He's  as  brave  as  a  lion,  though  you  wouldn't 
believe  it." 

"  There  are  those  horrible  dogs." 

"  Poor,  lumbering,  unhappy  brutes !  I  should  never  be 
afraid  of  them." 

"All  the  same,  I'm  glad  you  didn't  go,  you  intrepid 
little  fairy  godmother." 

"  You'll  see  that  I  can  be  intrepid  where  it's  a  question 
of  fighting  for  my  girl's  happiness." 

"  Sir  Rupert  will  never  consent  to  the  marriage,  Lady 
O'Brien." 

"A  fig  for  the  man's  consent!  I  only  want  to  find  out 
where  the  boy  is.  If  he  cuts  up  rusty  I'll  tell  him  to  go 
and  be  hanged.  I've  a  roof  to  cover  them,  and  enough 
for  a  young  couple  to  live  on,  even  with  the  old  woman 
in  the  chimney-corner." 

"  How  good  you  are,  Lady  O'Brien !  No  wonder  Esther 
loves  you." 

"  It  is  she  who  is  good  to  come  here  and  brighten  my 
old  life  with  her  youth  and  freshness." 

"  You  are  very  young  in  heart,"  I  could  not  help  saying. 

"Ah!  my  dear,  perhaps  I  keep  my  heart  a  little  green. 
I  remember  when  I  was  young  myself — long  before  ever 
I  thought  of  my  good  Peter— and  how  I  loved  somebody, 
and  thought  I  should  die  of  losing  him." 

"But  why  did  you  lose  him?"  I  whispered. 

"  He  never  thought  of  me,  my  dear,  not  in  that  way. 
He  never  even  suspected  that  I  thought  of  him." 

I  looked  at  her  in  wondering  sympathy. 


272  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  It  was  your  grandfather,  Hilda,"  she  said.  "  He's  a 
saint  in  heaven  to-day,  dear  fellow,  but,  upon  my  word,  I 
half  wish  he'd  been  less  saintly,  and  had  called  out  De 
Lacy  and  put  a  bullet  through  him." 

The  transition  was  so  sudden  and  characteristic  that  I 
burst  out  laughing.  Just  then  the  page-boy  came  to  the 
door. 

"  Your  ladyship's  messenger  has  returned  and  brought 
a  note." 

Lady  O'Brien  snatched  the  note  from  the  salver. 

"There,  that  will  do.  Never  mind  the  fire.  We'll 
attend  to  it  ourselves.  Go  out,  and  shut  the  door  after 
you." 

She  tore  open  the  note,  glanced  at  it,  and  then  handed 
it  to  me.  It  was  written  on  a  half-sheet  of  paper, 
evidently  torn  from  a  letter,  and  with  ink  so  pale  as  to 
suggest  an  application  of  water  to  the  ink-pot. 

Sir  Rupert  De  Lacy  presents  his  compliments  to  Lady 
O'Brien,  and  will  do  himself  the  honour  of  calling  on 
her  to-morrow  at  Jive. 

"  Now,  that's  the  letter  of  an  ordinary  human  being," 
said  Lady  O'Brien,  "  barring  an  eccentricity  in  the  ink 
and  paper.  Maybe  the  devil's  not  so  black  as  he's  painted." 

"  It's  very  polite,"  said  I,  "  but  I  wouldn't  trust  him. 
I'd  distrust  him  all  the  more  when  he  was  by  way  of 
being  civil." 

"Well,  we'll  see,  we'll  see.  It  won't  be  long  till  to- 
morrow at  five." 

"  I'll  wait  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say,"  I  said. 


ESTHER.  273 

"  I'll  tell  you  what.  I'd  better  see  him  alone.  But  if 
you'd  care  to  be  present  at  the  interview  you  can  just 
sit  inside  the  alcove  there  and  pull  the  reed  curtains. 
He'll  never  see  your  black  frock  in  the  dark,  and  if  he 
does,  why,  it's  no  business  of  his." 

"  Esther  is  not  to  know,  I  suppose." 

"Better  not  It  would  only  agitate  her.  Wait  till 
it  is  over.  Perhaps  she  is  awake  now  and  longing  to 
see  you." 

She  rang  the  bell  and  asked  if  Miss  Brandon  was 
awake,  and  the  reply  was  in  the  affirmative,  so  I  went 
upstairs  to  Esther's  pretty  room. 

The  dusk  was  beginning  to  gather,  but  I  could  see 
that  she  looked  ill,  though  she  had  a  bright  colour.  Her 
eyes  were  heavy  and  her  aspect  listless. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  in  for  a  feverish  cold,  Hilda,"  she  said, 
when  we  had  greeted  each  other.  "  My  throat  is  sore 
and  my  hands  very  hot.  Feel  them." 

I  took  her  hands  in  mine  and  felt  them  dry  and 
burning. 

"What  is  it,  Essie?"  I  said  tenderly;  "worry?" 

"Not  altogether  that.  The  day  before  yesterday, 
when  my  godmother  had  driven  to  Iniscrone  on  business, 
and  I  was  supposed  to  be  nursing  a  little  cold  I  brought 
from  Kilkee,  I  slipped  out  and  ran  all  the  way  to 
Brandon  Abbey,  thinking  there  might  be  a  word  or  a 
flower  for  me  in  the  old  place.  But  there  was  nothing, 
and  it  rained  hard  coming  back,  and  I  got  very  wet,  and 
said  nothing  about  it." 

(  H  436  )  8 


274  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  Oh,  Esther,  that  was  foolish!" 

"I  know;  but  you  don't  know  how  I  am  driven  to  do 
something.  It  seems  as  if  I  was  lying  here  and  letting 
all  my  life  slip  through  my  fingers." 

"  Can't  you  trust  other  people  to  do  for  you  just  for 
the  present?" 

"Ah!  my  godmother  has  been  talking  to  you.  You 
know  I  have  told  her  everything."  • 

"  Yes,  I  am  glad  of  it.  She  is  a  stout  friend,  although 
only  a  frail  little  old  fairy  godmother.  Trust  her,  Esther. 
She  will  do  all  that  love  and  courage  can." 

"I  know.  She  is  wonderful.  But  what  are  we 
against  Sir  Rupert  ?  If  we  had  only  a  man  with  us !  If 
Pierce  had  lived  and  been  strong!" 

"  God's  in  his  heaven,  Esther." 

"  Yes,  I  try  to  pray  and  have  faith,  but  I  am  afraid  of 
the  Cross.  What  if  it  were  His  will  to  take  my  Harry?" 

"  He  would  give  you  courage,  and  would  bear  your 
Cross  with  you.  But  His  will  for  you  may  be  just  as 
well  your  heart's  desire." 

"  Yes.  I  went  into  a  church  one  day  at  Kilkee.  The 
door  was  open,  and  someone  was  singing  at  the  organ: 

'  O  rest  in  the  Lord,  wait  patiently  for  Him, 
And  He  will  give  thee  thy  heart's  desire '. 

I  thought  it  was  a  message  for  me,  and  have  said  it  so 
often  to  myself.  Oh,  my  heart's  desire,  my  heart's 
desire!"  she  cried,  and  then  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands. 


ESTHER.  275 

"Why  are  you  so  full  of  fears,  Esther?"  I  asked. 

"My  Harry  is  delicate,"  she  whispered,  "and  Sir 
Rupert  is  wicked  and  strong." 

"  God  is  stronger  than  Sir  Rupert." 

"  Oh,  Hilda,  can  you  imagine  the  unnaturalness  of  the 
man  that  makes  him  hate  his  own  flesh  and  blood?  No 
one  knows  how  much  my  Harry  has  been  made  to  suffer 
in  that  house.  He  says  it  is  his  grandfather's  way  of 
trying  to  drive  him  out  of  it.  I  wonder  if  he  is  right  in 
staying?" 

"  He  has  only  his  own  light  to  go  by,  as  each  of  us 
has,  Essie.  We  must  leave  him  to  its  guidance." 

"  He  says  his  presence  is  in  some  sort  a  check  on  the 
orgies  of  those  two  wretched  men.  But  if  he  dies  under 
it?  Has  he  no  duty  to  me  and  to  his  own  life?" 

"  You  exaggerate,  darling,  I  am  sure.  One  need  not 
die  even  of  such  an  unholy  place  as  Angry." 

"  Not  if  one  were  strong.  But  he  has  never  yet 
recovered  of  his  hurt,  and  he  is  not  likely  to  at  Castle 
Angry." 

She  broke  off  suddenly  and  began  to  cry. 

"  I  am  forgetting  that  for  four  months  I  have  had  no 
word  of  him,  and  that  now  the  letters  that  ought  to  have 
brought  him  so  eagerly  to  my  side  remain  unanswered. 
Where  is  he,  Hilda?  Where?  How  do  I  know  but  that 
he  is  already  dead,  and  so  escaped  his  enemies?  If  he 
were  living  and  well  he  would  surely  have  come." 

"Be  quiet,  darling.  You  are  letting  your  fear  run 
wild.  People  are  not  made  away  with  like  that  in  the 


276  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

nineteenth  century.  Perhaps  the  letters  have  not  reached 
him.  Perhaps  they  have  been  kept  from  him,  or  he  is 
not  there.  He  may  have  sickened  of  Angry  and  gone 
back  to  Warwickshire." 

"  No,  he  might  have  gone,  but  he  would  have  returned. 
He  would  not  stay  long  away  from  where  I  am." 

She  lifted  her  head  for  a  moment  in  proud  confidence. 
Then  it  drooped  again  as  a  flower  droops  heavy  with 
rain. 

"You  would  never  think,  Esther,  that  he  could  be 
silent  because  he  had  forgotten  you?" 

"  Never  that.     Nothing  could  separate  us  but  death." 

"  Well,  Esther,"  said  I,  "  be  quiet  and  keep  your  heart 
calm.  We  shall  know  something  to-morrow,  for  Sir 
Rupert  is  to  come  here  at  five  o'clock." 

"Sir  Rupert!" 

"Yes.  We  had  not  meant  to  tell  you,  but  now  I  think 
it  is  better.  Lady  O'Brien  wrote  that  she  wanted  to  see 
him,  and  he  has  written  saying  he  will  come." 

She  looked  at  me  with  distended  eyes. 

"Under  this  roof!"  she  muttered  to  herself. 

"At  least  we  shall  find  out  where  his  grandson  is." 

"  Yes,  we  surely  shall.  He  will  have  to  answer  a  plain 
question,  won't  he,  Hilda?  To  think  of  the  godmother 
drawing  him  like  that." 

"  If  he  had  not  come  she  would  have  invaded  him  in 
his  den." 

"Dear,  brave  little  soul!  I  have  not  deserved  such 
love,  Hilda." 


ESTHER.  277 

"  For  an  undeserving  person,  you  seem  to  receive  quite 
a  large  share,"  I  said  drily. 

"Yes,  don't  I?"  she  answered  in  her  simple  way. 
Then  she  went  on: 

"I  am  so  glad  you  told  me  about  Sir  Rupert,  Hilda. 
It  is  the  doing  something  that  helps  me,  and  I  should 
hardly  have  had  enterprise  for  that.  The  penny  post 
has  awful  possibilities  of  cruelty.  Think  of  launching 
those  letters  into  the  dark,  and  then  waiting  for  an 
answer — the  horrible  strain  of  it — and  feeling  in  your 
cold  heart  all  the  time  that  no  answer  will  come." 

"Poor  penny  post!"  I  said,  laughing;  "but  think  of  all 
the  happiness  it  brings  as  well!" 

"  I  can  only  think  of  the  letters  that  never  come,  or 
the  cruel  and  cold  letters.  But  they  are  easier  to  bear 
than  the  silence." 

"  Well,  darling,"  I  said  soothingly,  "  the  cruel  and  cold 
letters  will  never  come  to  you,  and  the  silence  is  only  a 
pause  before  good  news." 

"You  think  so,  Hilda?  I  was  always  so  afraid  of  Sir 
Rupert.  I  know  it  is  silly,  but  the  shadows  out  of  one's 
childhood  dominate  one  in  a  time  of  trouble." 

"Now,  fret  no  more,  Essie,"  I  said;  "I  shall  be  with 
you  to-night,  and  to-morrow  will  bring  news.  Think  of 
yourself  as  a  rich  girl  with  a  lover,  and  pity  all  the  poor 
unloved  ones  like  Hilda." 

"Ah!  time  was,"  she  smiled,  "in  my  romantic  youth, 
when  I  thought  the  lover  stage  the  one  most  desirable. 
Now  I  think  it  is  cruel  and  full  of  fear.  But  I  am 


278  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

to  be  strong,  Hilda,  and  hope  for  to-morrow.     You  will 
tell  me  everything?" 

"Everything;  and  be  sure  all  will  be  well." 
When  I  went  up  to  bed  that  night  I  found  Esther 
sleeping  placidly.  The  finger-tips  were  turned  towards 
her  palms,  like  a  child's  in  sleep,  and  the  long  lashes 
made  a  shadow  on  her  richly-coloured  cheeks.  I  prayed 
hard  that  night  that  the  morrow  might  not  betray  our 
confidence. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

SIR   RUPERT. 

fTlHE  next  day  was  cold  and  blustery,  with  winds  that 
J-  shook  down  the  last  remaining  glory  of  the  trees, 
and  cold  rain  that  beat  the  orange  and  scarlet  of  the 
dead  leaves  into  so  much  black  mud.  It  was  a  day  when 
everything  seems  dreary.  The  big  sunflowers  in  the 
lawn  at  Annagower  broke  with  their  own  weight,  and 
hung  ruefully  on  the  shattered  stalk.  The  chrysanthe- 
mums were  bruised  and  muddy,  and  the  air  was  full  of 
the  repining  of  the  afflicted  branches.  Even  the  robin 
sang  as  if  his  heart  were  not  in  it. 

I  sat  with  Esther  a  great  part  of  the  morning,  and 
would  not  let  her  talk  too  much  on  the  subject  that  was 
in  all  our  minds.  I  tried  to  distract  her  by  telling  her 
the  things  that  had  happened  when  I  was  in  London;  but 
though  she  was  interested  about  Freda,  and  unselfishly 
rejoiced  over  my  success  with  the  publishers,  yet  I  could 
see  that  her  mind  wandered,  that  her  fingers  beat  the 
counterpane  impatiently  as  though  the  time  would  never 
pass. 

But  the  hours  turned  round  at  last  to  five  o'clock,  and 


280  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

found  me  hidden  like  a  conspirator  in  the  little  alcove 
off'  the  drawing-room.  This  was  unlighted;  it  was  little 
more  than  an  archway  in  fact,  with  a  few  feet  of  space 
behind,  but  with  the  dusk  in  it  and  the  lit  drawing-room 
beyond  I  had  no  fear  that  even  Sir  Rupert's  unflinching 
old  eyes,  as  I  remembered  them,  would  discover  me. 

I  had  placed  Lady  O'Brien  with  her  back  to  me  and 
the  tea-table  before  her,  and  had  drawn  a  chair  near  the 
lamplight  for  Sir  Rupert,  for  I  had  a  great  desire  to  see 
our  old  enemy's  face  during  the  interview  that  was  to  be 
so  momentous  to  poor  Essie. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  he  was  punctual  to  his 
time.  He  came  in,  a  curious  figure  for  a  lady's  drawing- 
room,  in  a  great  rough  old  frieze  coat  such  as  the 
farmers  wear  at  the  fairs.  As  he  sat  down  heavily  in 
the  chair  I  had  placed  for  him  I  saw  that  he  looked 
older,  but  scarcely  weaker  than  I  remembered  him.  If 
a  tithe  of  the  stories  told  about  his  way  of  life  were  true, 
then  he  had  a  constitution  of  iron. 

I  saw  the  gleam  of  his  eyes  fixed  on  my  lady's  face, 
and  felt  that  I  was  going  to  watch  a  game  of  fence.  In 
the  heat  of  the  room  his  coat  began  to  steam,  and  Lady 
O'Brien  implored  him  to  take  it  off.  He  did  so,  flinging 
it  across  a  velvet  chair,  and  showed  himself  clad  in  a 
riding  suit  of  very  ancient  cut,  in  which,  however,  he 
looked  a  figure  of  a  certain  distinction.  Then  he  sat 
down  again  and  leant  towards  his  hostess,  bringing  his 
strong,  colourless,  old  face,  with  its  jaws  of  iron,  within 
the  rays  of  the  lamp. 


SIR   RUPERT.  281 

Lady  O'Brien  had  dressed  herself  for  the  interview 
with  a  certain  coquettishness.  Dear  old  lady,  it  would 
indeed  be  the  end  of  things  with  her  when  her  pretty 
vanities  were  relinquished.  She  was  wearing  a  gray, 
stiff  silk,  trimmed  with  the  most  exquisite  old  yellow 
lace,  and  her  soft  hair  was  piled  high  over  her  delicate 
face  with  its  sparkling  eyes. 

I  could  not  see  her  face,  of  course,  from  where  I  sat, 
but  I  could  see  the  flash  and  glitter  of  her  rings  as  her 
still-beautiful  hands  moved  to  and  fro  among  the  tea- 
cups. 

"  I  may  offer  you  some  tea,  Sir  Rupert?"  I  heard  her  say. 

"  Well,  madam,  tea  is  not  much  in  my  line,"  he 
answered  grimly.  "  It  is  a  good  many  years  since  I  have 
known  the  taste  of  it,  in  fact." 

"Oh,  Sir  Rupert,  you  men!"  said  the  little  old  lady, 
lifting  a  reproving  finger;  "  it  is  well  for  you  I  know 
your  ways." 

She  took  from  a  lower  tray  of  her  tea-table  a  little 
bottle  gold-coloured,  and  a  liqueur  glass. 

"  This  is  the  finest  old  brandy,  Sir  Rupert,"  she  said. 
"  I  won't  insult  you  and  it  by  asking  if  you  will  take 
soda-water  with  it." 

"  Brandy  is  quite  good  enough  for  me,"  he  answered. 
"  You  were  always  a  woman  of  a  thousand." 

"Ah!  Sir  Rupert,  you  flatter  me,"  said  the  old  lady, 
sipping  her  tea. 

"  If  the  truth  is  flattery,"  he  said,  "  it  is  the  truth  that 
beauty  and  wit  are  seldom  found  in  one  garland." 


282  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"You  have  not  forgotten  your  old  ways,"  she  said. 
"  Rustication  has  made  you  no  whit  the  better." 

"Ah!"  he  said,  "when  beauty  and  grace  shine  on  un- 
accustomed eyes,  even  the  rustic  tongue  is  loosed." 

I  listened  with  amazement.  I  had  thought  that  the  Sir 
Rupert  who  was  a  man  about  town  and  a  pretty  fellow 
ages  ago,  was  quite  lost  in  Sir  Rupert  the  ogre  of  Angry 
Castle,  the  false  and  vindictive  friend,  the  patient  waiter 
upon  vengeance,  the  sinner  stained  with  so  many  crimes 
that  it  was  easy  to  credit  him  with  all.  Yet,  grim  as  he 
looked,  his  air  now  was  not  saturnine.  He  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  for  a  moment  his  later  years,  and  turned 
back  to  a  page  of  his  youth. 

He  had  settled  his  huge  shoulders  comfortably  in  the 
low  chair,  and  was  swallowing  glass  after  glass  of  the 
brandy,  which  apparently  did  not  affect  him  in  the  least. 

"  You  will  be  wondering,"  said  my  lady,  "  why  I  should 
have  asked  for  this  interview." 

She  had  settled  down  for  serious  conversation,  having 
replaced  her  cup  in  the  tray.  I  could  see  the  pretty 
fan  with  which  she  had  provided  herself  waving  to  and 
fro  against  the  firelight. 

"  No  reason  was  needed,  my  lady,  except  that  you  had 
not  forgotten  me  like  the  rest  of  the  world." 

"  Was  that  enough  to  bring  you  half-a-dozen  miles  in 
drenching  rain?" 

"Since  when  have  I  been  afraid  of  a  shower?" 

"Oh,  Sir  Rupert!  you  know  you  are  a  recluse  by  your 
own  choice.  The  world  would  not  have  forgotten  you 


SIR   RUPERT.  283 

if  you  had  not  willed  to  be  forgotten.  This  being  so,  I 
did  not  lightly  invade  your  solitude." 

"  The  wish  to  meet  again  and  recall  old  memories  had 
been  quite  enough." 

"Ah!"  said  her  ladyship,  "old  memories  are  bitter- 
sweet; let  them  rest.  But  I  thank  you  for  coming  all 
this  way.  I  would  have  found  my  way  to  your  solitude, 
but  I  was  assured  you  barred  your  gates  against  all  the 
world." 

"  Country  folks'  tales,"  he  said.  "  But  it  would  be  to 
reverse  the  natural  order  of  things  if  you  had  come. 
Besides,  my  house  is  hardly  fit  to  receive  a  lady." 

"  That  is  why  I  longed  to  come." 

"  Because  you  had  heard  strange  stories  about  me  and 
it,  eh?"  he  said  shrewdly. 

"  Perhaps.     You  are  somewhat  of  an  ogre,  De  Lacy." 

"  Yes,  I  let  the  gobemouches  say  their  say." 

"Do  you  mean  that  really  Castle  Angry  is  like  any 
other  old  house?" 

"  You  do  me  too  much  honour  to  be  interested  in  it. 
Castle  Angry  is  perhaps  as  like  any  other  old  house  as 
I  am  like  any  other  old  man." 

"  Well,  you  are  not  at  all  like  any  God-fearing  kindly 
old  man,  carrying  peace  and  honour  upon  his  gray 
hairs." 

Sir  Rupert  laughed  grimly. 

"You  are  right.  I'm  not  the  grandfatherly  sort.  If 
you've  heard  half  the  gossip  of  the  country  you're  a 
brave  woman  to  have  me  in  your  drawing-room.  There 


284  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

are  a  good  many  milestones  between  this  and  our  last 
merry  meeting." 

"  I'm  not  a  bit  afraid  of  you,  De  Lacy,"  said  my  lady, 
still  waving  her  large  fan.  "Though  I  know  you're  a 
bad  lot,  still  I  remember  that  some  good  people  loved 
and  trusted  you  once  upon  a  time,  so  I  hope  the  Lord 
may  yet  change  your  heart." 

"Ah,  thank  you!"  said  Sir  Rupert  shortly.  I  guessed 
that  my  lady's  reference  was  to  my  grandfather,  and 
that  it  had  angered  Sir  Rupert. 

"  Well,  your  reason,  madam,  for  desiring  an  interview," 
he  said  with  a  slight  barring  of  his  strong  yellow  teeth, 
"  since  it  is  not  for  the  pleasure  of  my  company." 

"  You  have  a  grandson,  Sir  Rupert." 

"  I  have,  madam." 

"A  charming  youth,"  said  my  lady  pensively.  "I  con- 
gratulate you  upon  him !" 

"Did  you  send  for  me  to  say  so,  Lady  O'Brien?" 

"  Of  course  not,  De  Lacy.  But  I  have  missed  him  of 
late." 

"  He  is  a  fortunate  fellow." 

"  I  am  fond  of  young  society.  He  came  often,  and  I 
was  grateful  to  him.  Now  he  comes  no  more,  and  though 
I  have  written  to  him  I  have  had  no  answer." 

"  Young  men,  I  have  heard,  are  cavalier  nowadays." 

"  They  may  be,  but  I  don't  think  the  lad  is.  Do  you 
know  anything  of  him,  De  Lacy?" 

"Do  you  think  I  carry  him  in  my  pocket,  madam?" 

"Is  he  at  Angry?" 


SIR   RUPERT.  285 

"If  he  were,  would  he  not  have  flown  at  your  call?" 

"  I  feared  he  might  be  ill.  He  is  not  yet  recovered  of 
his  hurts  when  he  fell  in  the  spring.  I  feared  he  might 
be  at  Angry  needing  a  woman's  care." 

"  Your  heart  is  too  tender.  If  he  had  needed  nursing 
he  could  have  found  it  where  it  was  supplied  to  him  so 
generously  before.  He  would  naturally  turn  to  my 
neighbours  at  Brandon." 

"  They  were  very  good  to  him,  De  Lacy.  It  was  true 
Christianity  of  them  to  take  him  in.  It  ought  to  wipe 
off  old  scores  in  your  mind." 

His  face  went  livid. 

"  A  new  way  to  pay  old  debts,"  he  sneered ;  "  but  your 
sex  is  ever  romantic,  my  lady." 

"  I  am  glad  the  boy  is  so  little  like  you." 

"Little  enough  as  far  as  that  goes,  as  little  as  his 
father  was  before  him.  But  to  what  am  I  indebted  for 
this  interest  in  my  flesh  and  blood?" 

"  To  himself,  De  Lacy,  be  sure,  and  not  to  you.  Partly, 
too,  because  he  is  dear  to  someone  who  is  dear  to  me." 

"Ah!  an  affair  of  the  heart.  I  did  not  credit  him  with 
being  a  gallant.  But  I  daresay  he  had  a  score  of  pretty 
affairs  I  knew  nothing  of.  The  county  is  famed  for  its 
rustic  beauties,  and  young  men  will  be  young  men." 

The  fan  trembled  violently  in  my  lady's  hand. 

"You  insult  your  grandson,  sir,  and  you  insult  my 
adopted  daughter,  to  whom  he  is  betrothed." 

"Your  ladyship's  adopted  daughter?" 

"  Miss  Esther  Brandon." 


286  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

I  leant  forward  with  my  heart  in  my  mouth.  Sir 
Rupert  had  half  sprung  from  his  chair,  and  for  a  second 
his  attitude  was  so  menacing  that  I  was  in  the  act  to 
rush  to  the  bell-rope.  Then  he  resumed  his  seat  and 
looked  at  my  lady  with  narrowed  eyes.  Something  in 
the  look  told  me  that  he  was  answering  a  defiance  in 
hers.  Still  her  feather  fan  waved  airily  up  and  down. 

"  The"  plot  thickens,"  he  said  at  last,  and  his  voice  had 
grown  hoarse.  "Am  I  to  understand  that  you  contem- 
plate a  marriage  between  this  modern  Romeo  and  Juliet  ? 
I  suppose  so,  since  the  affair  has  flourished  under  your 
roof." 

"  You  certainly  may  understand  it,  De  Lacy.  I  don't 
see  why  your  wicked  old  feuds  and  hatreds  should  over- 
shadow two  young  lives.  Let  alone  that  the  feud  was 
entirely  of  your  making." 

"Do  you  expect  me  to  abet  you?" 

"Oh,  indeed,  I  expect  little  of  you,  De  Lacy,  unless 
the  grace  of  God  should  soften  your  heart!" 

"  Will  it  alter  matters  that  the  youth  inherits  nothing 
but  the  barren  acres  of  Angry  ?  You  and — Miss  Brandon 
— are  probably  thinking  of  him  as  the  inheritor  of  my 
wealth.  But  my  money  is  my  own,  and  I'd  rather  leave 
it  to  Gaskin  to  found  a  family,  or  endow  a  home  for 
mangy  cats  with  it." 

The  fan  moved  more  airily  than  ever. 

"  As  you  will,  Sir  Rupert.  I  am  a  poor  woman,  but 
what  little  I  have  goes  to  my  dear  child." 

"  She  may  not  be  satisfied  with  that,"  he  said,  sneering 


STR  RUPERT.  287 

viciously.  "You  probably  underestimate  her  common- 
sense.  And  he — he  may  know  on  which  side  his  bread 
is  buttered." 

"You  wrong  them  both,  De  Lacy.  Love  is  enough 
for  them." 

"A  very  pretty  sentiment  in  the  mouth  of  an  old 
woman." 

The  fan  fluttered  as  if  the  hand  that  held  it  were 
agitated,  and  I  guessed  that  the  rude  shaft  had  gone 
home. 

"It  was  hardly  worth  my  while  to  ask  you  if  you 
were  friend  or  foe,"  she  said  after  a  moment's  silence. 
"I  might  have  known.  Do  your  worst,  De  Lacy,  you 
cannot  hurt  them." 

"  Oh,  hurting  of  the  kind  you  mean  is  out  of  fashion ! 
They  have  my  worst  wishes.  Otherwise,  all  I  desire  is 
to  hear  no  more  of  the  cub  who  calls  himself  by  my  name, 
and  the  pauper  he  has  chosen." 

"For  shame,  Sir  Rupert!  You  are  unnatural,  or  you 
would  love  the  boy  and  think  of  nothing  but  his  happi- 
ness." 

The  old  man  rose  from  his  seat  and  made  an  exagger- 
ated bow. 

"  You  are  welcome  to  him,"  he  said,  "  the  poor,  pretty, 
puling  fool!  I  hope  the  girl  has  enough  manhood  for 
two." 

"  If  he  were  not  a  man,  De  Lacy,  he  would  never  have 
spent  an  hour  in  Angry  Castle.  What  are  you,  to  judge 
of  gentleness  and  chivalry?" 


288  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

She  had  stood  up  now,  and,  leaning  on  her  stick,  shook 
an  angry  head  at  him. 

"What  have  you  done  with  him,  De  Lacy?"  she  cried. 
"  I  believe  you  know  where  he  is,  and  will  not  say." 

",What,  then,  is  Master  Milksop  to  be  spirited  away 
like  a  yearling  child?" 

"He  is  not  with  you,  then?"  she  said,  too  eager  to  be 
baffled  by  his  insults. 

"  He  is  not.     He  left  three  months  ago." 
"Three  months  ago!     Why  hasn't  he  written  then?" 
"  How  can  I  say  ?     He  has  tired  of  his  fancy,  I  expect." 
"  That  is  not  true,  De  Lacy,  and  you  know  it  is  not." 
"  If  he  has  not,  let  him  come  back  to  her." 
Lady  O'Brien  rang  the  bell,  and  in  answer  the  page- 
boy appeared. 

"Show  this  gentleman  out,"  she  said,  and  stood  erect 
till  the  door  had  closed  behind  the  enemy. 

The  instant  he  was  gone  I  ran  to  the  window  to  see 
him  mount  his  dog-cart  and  disappear  in  the  wet  night. 
Then  1  came  back  to  Lady  O'Brien's  side.  She  had  sunk 
into  her  chair,  and  the  sparkle  and  fire  were  gone  out  of 
her  face. 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  drawing  a  long  breath,  "  if  I  only  had 
the  flogging  of  that  man!  And  to  think  how  helpless  we 
are,  an  old  woman  and  two  girls,  my  dear.  And  time 
was  when  twenty  fine  fellows  would  have  been  ready  to 
flog  him  for  me!" 

"I  suppose  he  really  knows  nothing  of  his  grandson?" 
"  I  suppose  not.     After  all,  as  he  says,  the  boy  is  not  an 


"LADY  O'BRIEN  STOOD  UP  NOW  AND  SHOOK  AN  ANGRY  HEAD 
AT  HIM." 


SIR  RUPERT.  289 

infant.  He  must  have  grown  sick  of  the  place  and  gone 
away.  I  know  his  life  there  was  insupportable,  though 
Sir  Rupert  never  actually  showed  him  the  door." 

"What  are  we  to  say  to  Esther?" 

"  That  is  what  is  troubling  me." 

"  We  hardly  know  Harry  De  Lacy.  Is  it  possible  he 
could  care  less  than  she  does,  and  knowing  his  own 
poverty,  and  that  Sir  Rupert  would  never  consent,  has 
given  her  up  and  gone  away?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Esther  would  say  it  was  not  possible.  I  only  know 
him]  through  her  love.  For  myself,  I  saw  a  handsome 
and  gentle  boy,  a  gentleman,  and  with  the  tastes  and 
habits  of  one.  I  could  say  as  much  for  fifty  lads  of  my 
acquaintance." 

"You  don't  think  the  gentleness  could  imply  weakness?" 

"Ah!  that  I  cannot  answer  for.  Esther  will  never 
believe  that  he  could  go  away  and  forget  her.  Ah,  my 
poor  child!  I  dread  to  tell  her  that  we  have  heard 
nothing.  If  no  word  of  him  comes  I  don't  know  what 
she  will  do." 

"  There  is  nothing  left  for  us  to  do  but  wait,"  I  said 
sadly. 

"  I  suppose  not,"  she  said,  "  especially  as  there  was  no 
formal  engagement  between  them.  Poor  child!  if  she 
had  trusted  me  earlier,  all  this  might  have  been  averted. 
We  cannot  go  out  into  the  world,  you  and  I,  Hilda,  and 
track  him  down." 

"  No,"  I  assented,  "  but  we  will  hope.     You  have  done 

( M  436 )  T 


292  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

When  she  got  about  again  at  last,  in  the  frosty  days 
before  Christmas,  it  was  not  to  either  of  us  that  she  first 
turned  for  companionship  and  comfort.  Quite  unknown 
to  us,  she  had  been  friends  for  some  time  with  Margaret 
Flaherty,  the  comfortable  wife  of  a  small  farmer,  who 
had  fostered  Harry  De  Lacy  in  his  delicate  babyhood. 
Now  everyone  knows  that  the  ties  of  fosterage  are  hardly 
less  dear  and  close  than  those  of  maternity  itself,  and 
when  Harry  De  Lacy  came  back  to  his  wretched  home 
at  Angry,  there  had  been  no  heart  in  all  the  place  to  wel- 
come him  except  the  faithful  heart  of  his  foster-mother. 

We  were  glad  when  we  discovered  that  Esther  had 
this  comfort.  Her  unhappiness  had  weighed  heavily  on 
her  godmother.  During  that  winter  our  dear  old  lady's 
age  seemed  suddenly  to  have  found  her  out  Her  bright, 
brisk,  merry  ways  deserted  her,  and  she  began  to  be 
racked  with  rheumatism,  the  result,  I  suppose,  of  our 
damp  climate.  Yet  she  would  not  go  away  so  long  as 
Esther  desired  to  stay;  and  when  we  spoke  of  it,  Esther 
always  cried  out  for  a  reprieve,  as  though  news  were  on 
its  way,  which  would  surely  arrive  the  minute  she  was 
absent. 

All  the  time  she  was  so  tender,  so  loving,  so  full  of  com- 
punction over  her  dear  godmother,  that  we  could  not  be 
angry  with  her,  or  think  her  selfish.  I  felt  that  she 
was  held  to  the  place  by  bonds  which  she  was  powerless 
to  break.  Yet  she  had  promised  to  go  in  March, — they 
had  a  project  of  spending  Easter  in  Rome, — and  with 
that  we  had  to  be  content. 

The  trouble  weighed  so  much  on  my  spirits  that  I  had 
scarcely  the  heart  to  be  glad  when  Love  in  the  Valley 


"WILL  YE   NO   COME   BACK   AGAIN?"  293 

in  its  coat  of  delicate  blue  and  silver,  reached  me  a  little 
before  Christmas.  Nor  even  when  the  first  reviews  were 
distinctly  favourable.  I  began  to  grow  pessimistic,  I 
who  had  always  been  cheerful.  Was  there  nothing  but 
trouble  in  the  sweet  world?  I  asked  myself  as  I  looked 
about  me.  There  was  Esther  breaking  her  heart,  and  we 
who  loved  her  breaking  ours  with  her  in  sympathy ;  there 
was  Aline,  looking  for  ever  like  a  dove  whose  mate  has 
flown;  there  was  the  dear  old  General,  bearing  like  a 
saint  and  a  soldier  his  own  terrible  trouble.  Only  the 
young  ones  were  glad,  and  they  were  like  lambs  playing 
in  the  fields,  whom  every  hour  brought  nearer  to  the 
butcher's  knife. 

"  It  is  time,"  I  said  to  myself  one  day,  "  for  something 
happy  to  happen;  for  very  long  there  have  been  nothing 
but  unhappy  things." 

I  spent  my  time  now  pretty  well  between  Annagower 
and  Rose  Hill.  The  General  at  last  had  his  house  in 
order,  and  was  sitting  down,  as  he  said,  to  enjoy  life 
under  his  own  fig-tree.  But  sometimes  I  thought  it  was 
a  melancholy  kind  of  enjoyment.  He  had  been  used  to 
so  active  a  life,  and  he  was  not  of  those  who  grow  old 
easily.  It  would  have  suited  him  better  to  have  dropped 
between  the  shafts. 

I  used  to  find  it  lonely  and  melancholy  when  I  went 
in  during  the  short  winter  afternoons,  and  found  him 
sitting  there  with  an  odd,  unhappy  air  of  doing  nothing. 
He  used  to  brighten  wonderfully  when  he  saw  me,  but  I 
knew  that  the  sadness  would  come  again  when  I  went 
away.  Presently,  I  felt,  things  would  be  better  with  him, 
for  he  had  not  yet  shaken  down  into  the  new  life. 


294  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  You  must  become  a  country  gentleman,"  I  said,  "  and 
a  magistrate,  and  sit  on  boards,  and  farm  a  little.  And 
in  the  intervals  of  your  busy  life  you  must  write  a  book 
about  your  Indian  experiences." 

Then  he  would  smile,  and  say  I  was  right,  and  that 
presently  he  would  find  his  work  to  his  hand  and  do  it. 

But,  brave  and  resigned  as  he  was,  I  could  see  that  the 
uncertainty  about  his  son's  fate  was  weakening  the  spring 
of  life  and  energy  in  him. 

We  had  finished  cataloguing  the  library  and  getting  it 
into  order,  and  very  proud  I  was  of  my  work.  The  house 
was  in  the  most  spick-and-span  condition,  and  there  was 
nothing  left  for  us  to  do.  And  now  I  began  the  feast 
of  reading  which  I  had  promised  myself. 

Well,  a  day  came  when  I  bullied  the  General  at  last 
into  getting  into  his  cords  and  boots,  and  riding  to  a 
meet,  which  was  at  no  great  distance. 

"  Every  country  gentleman  hunts,"  I  said ;  "  and  you 
are  shirking  the  duties  of  your  state  in  life  by  not 
hunting." 

"  I  was  never  a  shirker,  little  girl,"  he  replied,  laughing; 
"  and  I  suppose  I  must  obey  orders." 

"  I  will  wait  and  dine  with  you,"  said  I,  "  if  you're  very 
good,  and  afterwards  you  can  drive  me  home." 

By  this  time  General  MacNeill  was  nearly  as  much 
our  friend  as  Esther's  godmother,  and,  like  her,  had 
brought  untold  pleasure  into  our  humdrum  lives. 

He  rode  off,  looking  quite  cheerful,  and  I  felt  that 
already  he  was  better  in  the  prospect  of  meeting  his 
fellows,  and  having  a  good  day  after  the  fox.  I  was  in 
a  pleasanter  mood  with  myself  and  the  whole  world, 


"WILL  YE   NO   COME   BACK   AGAIN?"  295 

when  I  settled  down  to  my  long  quiet  day,  alone  in  the 
library,  or  alone  except  for  Paudeen,  who  is  the  most 
unobtrusive  company,  and  is  never  so  rowdy  but  what 
he  can  vent  his  high  spirits  on  tearing  the  paper  in  the 
waste-paper  basket  into  infinitesimal  strips. 

It  was  twelve  o'clock  I  found,  after  the  General  had 
departed,  for  he  had  only  a  short  distance  to  ride  to  the 
meet. 

The  hours  passed  with  luxurious  slowness.  At  half -past 
one  a  maid  brought  my  lunch  and  set  it  on  a  table  drawn 
close  to  the  fire.  After  lunch  I  read  again  till  it  was 
nearly  tea-time;  I  expected  the  General  to  be  in  for  his 
tea,  a  repast  which  he  fondly  loved. 

About  four,  Mary  O'Connor  herself  brought  in  the 
tea-tray,  and  lit  the  spirit-lamp  under  the  urn.  Having 
done  this,  she  made  up  a  bright  little  fire,  and  fetched 
the  lamp  with  its  large  green  shade.  I  had  put  down 
my  book,  and  sat  lazily  watching  her  from  my  favourite 
seat,  the  top  rung  of  the  library  steps,  on  which  I  perched, 
dangling  my  feet. 

"  You've  no  idea,  Mary,"  I  said,  "  of  how  jolly  the  room 
looks  from  here." 

"Glory  be  to  goodness, child!"  said  Mary, for  the  thou- 
sandth time,  "  I  wish  you'd  come  off  that  ould  flight  o' 
steps,  and  sit  in  a  chair  like  a  Christian.  'Tis  breakin' 
your  neck  you'll  be  one  o'  these  days." 

After  she  had  gone  out  of  the  room  I  sat  there  listen- 
ing to  the  song  of  the  tea-urn,  and  feeling  drowsily 
comfortable.  Any  moment  I  knew  might  bring  the 
General,  and  it  didn't  seem  worth  while  to  get  absorbed 
in  a  book  again. 


296  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

As  I  sat  there,  suddenly  the  door  leading  to  the  gar- 
den, which  I  had  left  unlocked,  began  to  open.  I  watched 
it  with  some  alarm.  Tramps  were  few  in  our  neighbour- 
hood, yet  occasionally  the  mines  brought  rough  customers 
looking  for  work,  who  would  not  be  at  all  agreeable 
people  to  meet.  Fortunately  I  am  not  the  nervous  kind, 
or  I  should  have  fallen  off  my  high  seat.  As  it  was,  I 
sat  still  to  await  developments,  while  Paudeen  made  for 
the  door,  with  hair  bristling  and  little  white  teeth 
showing. 

When  the  door  was  fully  opened  a  man  came  a  step 
over  the  threshold,  and  stood  looking  about  the  room. 
As  there  was  no  light  beyond  the  radius  of  the  fire  and 
lamp  I  could  not  see  him  very  well.  He  was  dressed  in 
a  long  rough  coat,  and  was  wearing  a  soft  hat  which  hid 
his  face. 

Since  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  come  any  further, 
and  had  plainly  no  idea  of  my  presence,  I  sat  still,  hoping 
he  would  go.  But  suddenly  there  was  a  growl  and  a  dart 
from  Paudeen,  and  the  stranger  uttered  an  exclamation, 
then  stooping,  he  lifted  my  little  dog  by  the  scruff  of  its 
neck. 

"Oh,  please  don't  hurt  him!"  I  broke  out  piteously. 
"  I'm  so  sorry  if  he's  bitten  you,  but  he's  my  little  dog, 
and  he  thought  it  his  duty." 

"Hello!"  said  the  stranger,  advancing  a  step  or  two, 
and  still  holding  Paudeen.  "  Are  you  one  of  the  family 
portraits,  or  do  you  live  in  mid-air?" 

As  he  stood  blinking  towards  me  in  the  darkness, 
plainly  not  seeing  me,  I  burst  out  laughing.  It  was 
partly  relief,  because  the  minute  he  spoke  I  knew  he 


"WILL   YE   NO   COME   BACK   AGAIN?"  297 

was  a  gentleman  and  no  tramp,  and  partly  because  it 
was  so  funny  that  I  should  have  addressed  him  out  of 
the  ceiling,  so  to  speak. 

He  put  down  Paudeen  very  gently,  saying: 

"  Now,  little  chap,  don't  nip  me  again.  Honour  bright!" 
I  saw  that  Paudeen  began  to  wag  his  tail  as  if  his  doubts 
had  been  set  at  rest. 

Then  the  stranger  deliberately  took  off  the  lamp-shade, 
and,  lifting  the  lamp,  advanced  towards  me,  holding  it  so 
that  he  could  see  me. 

I  felt  rather  absurd  all  at  once,  and  cried  out: 

"  I'm  only  sitting  on  the  library  steps  reading.  Please 
put  down  the  lamp,  and  I'll  come  down." 

But  he  lifted  the  lamp  instead,  and  stared  at  me  atten- 
tively. As  he  took  in  my  abashed  features  he  uttered 
a  long  whistle. 

Then  he  put  down  the  lamp  and  said  deliberately: 

"  The  last  time  I  saw  you  I  picked  you  out  of  a  ditch. 
And  now  I  find  you  sitting  on  the  top  of  a  ladder." 

I  uttered  a  shriek  of  delight,  and  utterly  forgetting 
myself  and  my  shyness  I  scrambled  down  the  steps  any- 
how, upsetting  several  books  as  I  did  so,  and  caught  the 
stranger  by  the  two  hands. 

"  Oh,  you  are  Lance !"  I  cried,  "Lance  come  back,  thank 
God!  The  General  will  die  of  joy." 

"  We  mustn't  let  him  do  that,  little  girl.  That's  why 
I  came  prospecting  by  the  back-door.  I  did  not  know 
how  to  approach  him.  Is  he  well?" 

"He  will  be  quite  well  now  that  he  has  you.  I  am 
expecting  him  every  minute.  He  must  not  see  you  till  I 
have  told  him  you  are  here." 


298  THE   HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"But  who  are  you,  you  mysterious  child?  I  only 
know  you  as  the  little  girl  of  Annagassan  Races.  How 
do  you  come  to  be  here,  and  looking  after  my  father?" 

So  recalled  to  myself,  I  blushed,  and  let  his  hands, 
which  unconsciously  I  had  been  holding,  drop. 

"  I  am  Hilda  Brandon,"  I  said,  "  and  your  father  is  our 
dear  friend." 

"Whew!"  said  he  with  an  air  of  comic  perplexity. 
"  Then  I  suppose  you  are  grown-up  and  a  young  lady, 
and  I  have  been  taking  you  for  a  child  and  a  peasant. 
Why  didn't  you  undeceive  me  that  day  long  ago?" 

"  You  never  asked  me." 

"  But  you  knew  I  didn't  like  your  vanishing  into  thin 
air.  Still,  I  admit  that  I  was  an  unready  fellow." 

"And  where  have  you  been  all  those  years?" 

" Since  you  saw  me?" 

"  Since  you  left  your  father." 

"  The  greater  part  of  the  time  in  a  tower  in  the  hill- 
country  above  the  Khyber  Pass,  a  prisoner,  and  expecting 
my  quietus  every  day." 

"  And  you  escaped?" 

"Fortunately  for  me,  my  tribe  kicked  up  a  rumpus, 
and  a  British  regiment  came  along  and  blew  my  tower 
to  pieces,  and  very  nearly  blew  me  sky-high  with  it. 
Only,  I  managed  to  let  them  know  in  time.  However, 
all  that  is  a  story  for  a  winter's  night." 

"Ah!"  said  I,  "the  General  heard  something  of  this 
months  ago,  but  did  not  dare  to  hope  that  the  prisoner 
was  you.  Then  the  war  broke  out,  and  we  heard  no 
more." 

"  The  fellows  who  had  kicked  open  my  rat-trap  stayed 


"WILL  YE   NO   COME   BACK   AGAIN?"  299 

to  fight,  so  the  matter  never  got  reported  at  head-quarters. 
I  was  sorely  tempted  to  stay  with  them,  but  the  thought 
of  the  dad  restrained  ma  I  made  my  way  through  the 
hills  and  back  into  the  regions  of  her  Imperial  Majesty's 
government.  At  some  stages  of  that  journey  I  was  in 
as  bad  case,  nearly,  as  I  was  in  my  tower.  But  why  do 
I  tell  you  all  this?  I  am  here  anyhow,  and  now,  how 
will  the  dad  take  it?" 

"  Oh,  joy  never  kills!"  said  L 

He  looked  at  me  with  an  oddly  shy  look. 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  know, — "  he  began. 

"That  you  parted  in  anger?  Oh,  yes,  I  do!  Well,  I 
should  think  neither  of  you  will  ever  be  angry  again 
while  you  live." 

"Oh,  that's  a  large  order!"  he  said  laughing.  "Still,  I 
had  time  for  repentance." 

"  So  had  the  General,"  said  I.    "  He  is  never  angry  now." 

"Dear  old  dad!"  he  said;  "if  he  isn't,  I  shall  think  the 
fairies  have  been  changing  him.  He  may  be  as  angry  as 
he  likes  with  me  for  all  the  rest  of  his  days,  but  I'll  never 
take  him  at  his  word  again — never." 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  ashamed  of  yourself,"  said  I. 

"That's  rubbing  it  in,  and  ungenerous,  Miss  Hilda, 
especially  to  &  man  newly  come  from  the  dead,  as  it 
were." 

"Hush!"  I  cried,  "for  I  had  heard  a  horse's  hoofs  on 
the  gravel.  "Your  father  is  coming.  He  must  not  see 
you  suddenly.  Here,  come  behind  the  screen  till  I  have 
prepared  him." 

"  Don't  take  long,  Miss  Hilda,  or  I  shall  burst  out  upon 
him  as  soon  as  I  hear  his  dear  voice." 


300  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Have  patience,"  said  I;  "I  shall  not  take  long." 

I  had  just  time  to  draw  the  screen  across  his  corner 
when  the  General  came  in,  stamping  with  his  feet  as  he 
pulled  off  his  riding-gloves. 

"Ah,  this  is  pleasant!"  he  said.  "There's  a  touch  of 
frost  to-night.  I  hope  the  wind  will  change,  or  it  will 
spoil  the  hunting." 

"  I'm  glad  you're  keen  about  it,"  said  I.  "  Had  a  good 
day?" 

"Capital.  I'll  tell  you  about  it  when  I've  changed. 
I'm  too  muddy  for  a  lady's  tea-table." 

"  You're  not  going  to  change,"  said  I,  "  not  till  you've 
had  a  cup  of  tea.  You're  quite  good  enough  for  me,"  and 
I  pushed  him  into  a  chair. 

"  Very  well,  very  well,"  he  said,  "  it's  not  as  it  ought  to 
be;  but  when  a  lady  takes  command." 

I  began  to  make  the  tea  with  a  hand  that  trembled. 
I  was  wondering  what  I  should  say  next,  and  an  occa- 
sional impatient  rustle  in  the  corner  flurried  me  still 
more. 

"Ah!"  said  the  General,  "what  is  that?  Oh,  is  it  you, 
you  rascal?"  for  Paudeen  had  made  a  timely  appearance 
from  behind  the  screen. 

The  general  reached  over  and  took  the  cup  of  tea 
from  my  hand. 

"  Do  you  know,  little  girl,"  he  said,  "  your  prescription 
has  done  me  good?  I  felt  uncommonly  cheerful  to-day. 
I  suppose  there's  some  hint  of  the  spring  in  the  air  that 
touches  up  even  old  blood  like  mine." 

"  General,"  said  I,  "  do  you  think  that  you  felt  cheerful 
perhaps  because — because — good  news  was  coming?" 


"WILL   YE   NO   COME   BACK  AGAIN?"  301 

He  put  down  his  cup  and  stared  at  me. 

"Do  you  mean  anything,  Hilda?"  he  said.  "You  know 
what  good  news  means  for  me.  Have  you  heard  any- 
thing?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  something." 

"  Tell  me,  then,"  he  said,  rising  and  advancing  a  step. 
'*  I'm  not  a  child  or  a  woman.  You  have  news  of  Lance?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  I  cried,  between  laughing  and  weeping. 
"  Thank  God !  news  has  come — news  of  the  best.  It  has 
brought — Lance." 

Then  a  tall  figure  from  behind  the  screen  hurled  itself 
at  the  General  like  a  stone  from  a  catapult.  I  gave  just 
a  glance  at  the  two  men  shaking  hands  with  the  most 
tremendous  energy,  and  heard  the  General's  broken 
"Thank  God!"  Then  I  went  out  and  left  them  together. 

Now,  as  I  am  nothing  if  not  severely  practical,  I  went 
straight  to  Mary  O'Connor,  and  told  her  of  the  wonderful 
occurrences  of  the  last  half-hour.  That  good  woman  quite 
fulfilled  my  expectations  of  her.  With  a  flurry,  which 
was  no  flurry,  she  issued  her  commands. 

"  Kun  up,  you,  Jane,  to  the  best  bed-room  and  light  a 
fire,  and  put  out  the  best  linen  sheets  to  c,ir." 

And  then  in  an  aside  to  me: 

"  I  don't  suppose  the  cratur's  slept  in  a  dacent  bed  this 
many  a  year." 

I  didn't  mind  saying  anything  about  the  long  home- 
ward journey,  which  must  have  inured  the  wanderer  once 
more  to  sleeping  in  sheets,  for  Mary  went  on: 

"  The  table  for  three  to-night,  Anne;  an'  the  best  table- 
linen  ;  the  satin  damask  with  the  little  cockle-shells  upon 
it;  an'  all  the  silver  you  can  get  into  use.  An'  you,  Miss 


302  THE  HANDSOME  BKANDONS. 

Hilda,  run  out  like  a  good  child  an'  coax  Crosspatch  to 
cut  some  o'  them  ould  flowers  of  his.  'Tis  a  great  day 
for  Rose  Hill  entirely." 

I  knew  the  culinary  matters  might  safely  be  left  in 
Mary's  hands,  so  I  went  oft'  obediently  to  the  gardener, 
whose  proper  name,  Crosbie,  had  easily  become  Crosspatch 
in  Mary's  mouth. 

He  was  as  disagreeable  as  most  gardeners  about  cutting 
his  flowers,  though  I  could  usually  get  what  I  wanted 
from  him.  However,  he  rose  to  the  occasion  on  this  day 
of  days,  and  when  he  heard  of  the  General's  great  joy, 
was  as  anxious  as  anyone  to  do  his  share  in  celebrating  it. 

"  An'  to  think,  glory  be  to  God  (there's  me  best  Camille 
de  Rohan  for  you),  that  the  Lord's  looked  down  on  the 
master  at  last  (come  down  here,  you  conthrary  divil; 
some  o'  them  roses  is  as  unwillin'  to  be  picked  as  some 
people  is  to  die),  an'  sent  him  home  the  young  master  to 
be  the  prop  an'  stay  av  his  ould  age  (there  goes  the  finest 
Malmaison  in  the  County  Kerry!).  Sure,  'tis  wonderful! 
wonderful!  Well,  the  Lord  is  good  to  his  own.  (You've 
destroyed  me  prospects  at  the  show  entirely.)  Click, 
click;  I'd  as  soon  you'd  be  cuttin'  off  meself  as  them 
tubey  roses.  Here,  take  them!  Don't  have  me  lookin'  at 
them.  'Tis  a  holy  show  you've  made  o'  the  greenhouse!" 

"  Never  mind,  Crosbie,"  said  I,  "  you  don't  grudge  them 
to-day,"  as  I  took  the  heaped-up  basket. 

"  I  try  not  to,  I  try  not  to,"  he  said  gloomily.  "  But 
there's  that  man  at  the  Towers.  He'll  be  havin'  a  fine 
crow  over  me  at  Aisther.  Yerra!  why  didn't  the  masther's 
son  put  off  comin'  till  the  show  was  over  for  another 
year?" 


WAS   AS    DISAGREEABLE    AS    MOST    GARDENERS    ABOUT 
CUTTING    HIS    FLOWERS." 


"WILL  YE   NO   GOME   BACK  AGAIN?"  303 

I  left  the  old  man  amid  his  half-comical  regrets,  and 
went  to  the  dining-room,  which  I  found  resplendent  with 
silver  and  fine  linen.  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  slip 
off  as  soon  as  I  had  arranged  the  flowers,  so  as  to  let  the 
General  and  his  restored  son  have  their  first  meal  together 
alone. 

But  just  as  I  was  setting  the  last  satiny  rose  amid  its 
bronze  leaves  in  the  last  specimen-glass,  the  General  came 
in  search  of  me. 

"Ah,  decorating,  Hilda!"  he  said.  "My  boy  is  gone 
upstairs  to  have  a  wash.  How  glad  I  am  that  you  were 
here  to  welcome  him,  and  to  give  me  the  good  news!" 

"  And  very  stupidly  I  did  it.  I  was  expecting  him  to 
burst  cover  every  minute  of  my  bungling." 

"Oh,  no,  my  dear!  it  was  most  kind  and  considerate. 
My  boy  tells  me  he  remembers  you  quite  well,  and  recog- 
nized you  at  once." 

"I  haven't  changed  much,"  I  said  carelessly.  "But 
now,  General,  that  I  have  finished,  I  am  going  to  make 
myself  scarce.  Hawkins  will  drive  me  to  Brandon." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  the  General,  a 
choleric  spark  coming  into  his  eye.  "You're  not  going 
to  drop  me  now  Lance  has  come,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  drop  you  the  least  bit  in  the  world. 
But  you  will  have  so  much  to  say  to  each  other  this 
very  first  evening." 

"  Nothing  that  we  don't  want  you  to  share.  Why, 
little  girl " — and  a  wonderful  smile  broke  over  his  face — 
"  we  have  years  before  us  in  which  to  talk,  please  God, 
for  Lance  has  promised  never  to  leave  me  again." 

So  I  consented  to  stay,  feeling  rather  dissatisfied  with 


304  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

my  plain  frock  of  navy-blue  serge  on  this  day  of  rejoicing. 
Still,  with  a  cluster  of  Crosspatch's  Camille  de  Rohans 
fastened  at  the  belt,  I  brightened  it  up  a  little  for  dinner, 
and  hoped  I  did  not  look  very  dingy  when  I  arrived  in 
the  dining-room. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE   UGLY   DUCKLING. 

CAPTAIN  MACNEILL— I  felt  as  if  I  must  always 
\J  call  him  Lance  in  my  own  mind — came  forward 
when  I  entered  the  library  after  the  dinner-bell  had  rung. 

"You'll  have  to  dine  with  a  wild  man  of  the  woods, 
Miss  Brandon,"  he  said  apologetically.  "  I  have  only  the 
clothes  I  stand  up  in." 

"  Never  mind,  Lance,"  said  his  father,  "  we're  glad  to 
have  you  in  any.  We'll  go  over  to  London  next  week, 
arid  I'll  give  you  a  blank  cheque  for  Poole.  You've  no 
idea  what  a  dandy  he  has  always  been,  Hilda!" 

"  Oh,  I  remember  him!"  said  I.  "  Like  Solomon  in  his 
glory — that  is  to  say,  dressed  like  any  other  well-dressed 
young  man." 

"  And  I  remember  you — " 

Lance  broke  off  with  a  quizzical  glance. 

"  Come,  my  lad,  postpone  reminiscences  till  we're  over 
the  soup,"  said  the  General  as  he  offered  me  his  arm. 

We  dined  at  a  little  round  table,  which  brought  us  all 
in  close  neighbourhood.  As  Captain  MacNeill  ate  his 
soup  I  had  time  to  look  at  him.  He  was  a  good  deal 
changed  from  the  young  man  I  remembered.  No  doubt 

(M436)  U 


306  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

rest  and  good  living  would  bring  back  much  of  the  youth 
and  brightness,  but  there  were  lines  in  the  keen  brown 
face  that  would  never  be  obliterated.  He  was  thin,  and 
a  little  haggard:  that,  of  course,  was  to  be  expected;  but 
the  years  of  suffering  had  not  changed  his  eyes,  nor  his 
smile,  with  its  quick  flash  of  white  teeth;  by  these  I  felt 
I  should  have  known  him  under  any  circumstances. 

"How  good  everything  here  is!"  he  said,  looking  up 
suddenly.  "  I  never  knew  how  beautiful  a  thing  a  din- 
ner-table was  before.  Such  flowers  in  the  winter!  And 
how  golden  the  candle-light  is!  To  say  nothing  at  all  of 
this  delicious  soup!" 

"Ah!  Mrs.  O'Connor  has  done  her  best  with  the  cook- 
ery. I  am  glad  you  still  care  for  your  food,  my  boy. 
Appetite,  rightly  considered,  is  a  gift  of  God." 

The  young  man's  eyes  twinkled. 

"I've  the  appetite  of  a  school-boy  still,  and  you  re- 
member, Dad,  that  mine  was  a  record,  even  for  Harrow. 
I've  been  saving  it  up  all  the  years  of  my  imprison- 
ment." 

"  Hilda  decorated  the  table  in  your  honour.  How  she 
got  the  flowers  out  of  old  Crosbie  I  don't  know!" 

"  He's  a  heart-broken  man  to-night,  General,"  said  I. 
"  Still,  to  give  him  his  due,  he  chopped  away  generously 
under  the  excitement  of  the  good  news,  though  to  an 
accompaniment  of  grumbles." 

"  Crosbie's  a  good  fellow,"  said  the  General.  "  I  think 
I  must  take  on  that  lad  of  his,  though  there's  little  enough 
for  him  to  do." 

"  There's  an  epidemic  of  joy  in  the  household,  General. 
If  you  begin  rewarding,  I  don't  know  where  you'll  stop." 


THE   UGLY  DUCKLING.  307 

"  Hilda  thought  to  reward  us,  Lance,  by  running  away 
without  her  dinner." 

"That  would  have  been  unkind,"  said  the  Captain 
seriously. 

"  You  don't  know  what  she's  been  to  me,  Lance,"  said 
the  General,  looking  at  me  affectionately.  "  I  was  such  a 
lonely  old  man  till  that  day  I  came  into  my  desolate 
house,  and  found  her  perched  on  my  library  steps,  a  little 
bit  of  white  and  gold,  like  a  daisy." 

"  I  found  her  in  precisely  the  same  position,"  said  the 
Captain,  laughing.  "  Do  you  live  at  such  an  eminence, 
Miss  Hilda?" 

"  Pretty  well,"  the  General  answered  for  me.  "  She's 
an  uncanny  child,  and  will  read  in  the  most  uncomfortable 
positions." 

"  Till  Mary  O'Connor  goes  in  incessant  dread  of  my 
falling  down  like  a  precious  china  figure,  and  getting 
broken,"  said  I,  feeling  rather  embarrassed  at  being  the 
subject  of  conversation. 

"  Hilda  has  a  prescriptive  right  to  the  library,  Lance," 
said  the  General. 

"I  sha'n't  dispute  it,"  said  Captain  MacNeill.  "Is 
everybody  else  shut  out  altogether?" 

"  When  she  wills  it.  She  is  a  successful  writer,  you 
know,  and  when  she  comes  to  a  crux  in  the  story  she, 
having  nerves,  can't  bear  the  presence  of  anyone  but 
Paudeen,  who  is  sympathetic,  she  says. 

"  Are  you  really  an  author,  Miss  Hilda?"  said  Captain 
MacNeill,  with  real  or  simulated  astonishment. 

"  She  is,  my  boy,  and  a  successful  one  at  that,"  answered 
the  General. 


308  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  I  shall  be  horribly  afraid  of  you,  Miss  Hilda.  But 
what  precocity!  At  what  age  do  people  begin  to  write 
novels  nowadays?" 

Captain  MacNeill  seemed  determined  not  to  take  me 
seriously.  I  didn't  altogether  like  his  lack  of  seriousness 
about  my  authorship. 

"I  was  twenty-one  last  May,"  said  I.  "It  is  not  so 
very  young." 

"Not  really  twenty-one,  Miss  Hilda?"  said  the  Captain. 
"  Then  why  do  you  go  on  looking  fifteen?" 

"Because  I'm  small,  I  suppose,"  I  said.  "But  you 
must  have  known  I  was  grown-up,  for  I  was  a  big  girl 
when  you  saw  me  first  five  years  ago." 

"  So  you  were,"  he  said.  "  I  remember  now  that  when 
I  lifted  you  in  the  donkey-cart  I  thought  you  were  like 
a  very  considerable  piece  of  thistle-down  that  a  fairly 
robust  south  wind  might  blow  away." 

"  Please  don't  talk  about  that  silly  time,"  said  I.  "  But 
the  General  is  telling  stories  about  my  nerves.  If  I  have 
any  I  vent  them  on  Paudeen  and  the  four  walls  of  my 
little  room  at  home.  I  have  never  written  a  line  yet  in 
Rose  Hill  library." 

"  Time  you  should  begin,  Hilda,"  said  the  General.  "  If 
you'll  set  up  your  study  here  I'll  promise  you  this  fellow 
and  I  won't  disturb  you.  Life  seems  to  be  so  full  of 
things  to  be  done,  now  he  has  come  home,  that  I  don't 
know  which  thing  to  begin  at  to-morrow  morning." 

"Oh,  General!"  said  I,  "I  must  be  at  home  sometimes. 
Why,  I  have  been  spending  nearly  half  my  life  at  Rose 
Hill  this  winter." 

"  And  why  not?"  said  the  General.    "  A  couple  of  lonely 


THE   UGLY  DUCKLING.  309 

buffers  like  us  want  you  more  than  Brandon  can.  Do 
you  know  that  she  catalogued  and  arranged  all  our 
library,  Lance?" 

"Well,"  said  I,  half-laughing  and  half -confused,  "I 
should  think  you  two  could  find  something  to  talk  about 
this  night  of  nights  other  than  me." 

"Why,  my  dear,"  said  the  General  mildly,  "I  like  to 
tell  Lance  all  you  have  been  to  me— a  bird  of  good  omen 
in  my  lonely  life.  I  had  had  no  joy  for  so  long  before 
you  came — since  this  fellow  left  me,  in  short, — and  then 
you  came  into  my  life,  like  a — like  a  dear  little  daughter. 
She  has  been  like  that  to  me,  Lance." 

"I  am  very  glad,  sir,"  said  Captain  MacNeill  gently; 
but  something  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at  me  made  me 
turn,  all  of  a  sudden,  redder  than  the  roses  in  my  belt. 

Fortunately  the  dear  old  General  never  looked  at  me, 
but  I  was  acutely  conscious  of  the  gaze,  half-kind,  half- 
quizzical,  of  the  eyes  across  the  table.  I  did  not  know 
why  I  had  blushed,  and  felt  furious  with  myself. 

"  Did  you  know  that  Hilda  recognized  your  portrait  at 
once,  Lance?" 

"  Dear  General,"  said  I,  "  if  you  mention  my  name,  or 
refer  to  me  even  indirectly  again  during  dinner,  you  shall 
be  fined.  Do  make  him  talk  about  his  adventures 
instead." 

"  Ah !  you  don't  know  Lance.  He  was  a  laconic  fellow 
from  childhood  about  anything  that  concerned  himself. 
We'll  only  get  his  adventures  from  him  by  bits  and 
scraps." 

But  Captain  MacNeill  seemed  to  understand  that  I  was 
really  a  little  uncomfortable  at  being  talked  about  so 


310  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

much,  and  turned  the  conversation  in  the  deftest  and 
kindest  way. 

I  gave  them  their  coffee  in  the  library  before  I  went 
home,  and  after  I  had  gone  in  and  said  good-night  to 
them,  and  they  had  escorted  me  to  the  dog-cart,  which 
Hawkins  was  to  drive,  I  carried  away  the  happiest 
impression  of  the  peace  and  joy  I  had  left  behind.  The 
night  was  cold  enough  to  make  me  nestle  down  inside 
the  fleecy  rug  which  Captain  MacNeill  had  wrapped 
about  me,  but  the  picture  I  carried  in  my  mind  was  of 
the  father  and  son  sitting,  one  on  each  side  of  a  glowing 
fire,  with  their  cigars  between  their  lips  and  their  eyes 
fondly  regarding  each  other. 

After  that  evening  I  did  not  go  to  Rose  Hill  for  a  day 
or  so,  but  on  the  second  day  came  the  General  himself 
driving  over  to  fetch  me  back.  In  a  week  or  so  Captain 
MacNeill,  whose  wardrobe  had  become  renovated  after 
a  hurried  run  to  Dublin,  came  and  called  with  his  father, 
and  won  everybody's  heart,  from  Aline's  to  the  youngest 
of  the  twins. 

The  boys  were  now  in  the  shy  and  gawky  stage,  and 
required  a  good  deal  of  coaxing  out  of  their  shells,  and 
for  a  time  they  were  very  awkward  with  this  bronzed 
man  of  the  world,  who  had  had  so  many  adventures,  and 
was  so  modest  and  reticent  about  them.  However,  before 
the  close  of  the  visit,  I  saw  that  the  ice  was  thawing,  and 
guessed  that  in  a  very  short  time  they  would  be  calling 
him  MacNeill,  and  smoking  his  cigars  with  all  the  ease  in 
the  world;  and  I  was  not  mistaken.  In  fact,  that  state 
of  things  came  about  sooner  than  I  could  have  believed 
possible,  and  presently  a  certain  difference  of  opinion  arose 


THE   UGLY  DUCKLING.  311 

between  the  boys  and  the  twins,  for  the  boys  were  quite 
certain  that  it  was  only  MacNeill's  decency  that  made  him 
put  up  with  a  pair  of  stupid  little  duffers  like  the  twins 
when  there  were  men  to  be  had;  and  the  twins,  on  the 
other  hand,  believed,  and  said  openly,  that  they  were  the 
real  attraction  that  so  often  brought  Captain  MacNeill 
to  Brandon. 

Aline,  the  dear  mother  of  us  all,  was  not  without 
qualms  about  my  visiting  at  Rose  Hill  as  freely  as  of  old, 
now  that  the  house  contained  an  additional  inhabitant  in 
the  shape  of  an  attractive  young  man;  but  what  could 
she  and  I  and  the  conventionalities  do  against  the  absolute 
unconsciousness  of  the  dear  old  General?  If  I  stayed 
away  he  would  come  or  send  for  me,  and  it  was  as  impos- 
sible for  me  to  repulse  his  affection  as  it  was  for  Aline  to 
reveal  her  scruples  to  him.  At  last  she  consulted  Lady 
O'Brien  about  it,  and  that  dear  woman  responded  with 
her  usual  common-sense: 

"  Let  the  child  go  as  before,  Aline,"  she  said.  "  It  isn't 
the  world,  and  there's  no  one  to  make  invidious  remarks ; 
and  if  there  were  I'd  let  them  talk  till  doomsday  before 
I'd  come  between  Hilda  and  her  friends." 

So  I  came  and  went  as  of  old,  and  soon  lost  much  of 
my  shyness  of  Captain  MacNeill,  whom  indeed  I  only  met 
at  meals,  or  for  an  odd  half-hour  occasionally.  He  and 
his  father  seemed  to  find  so  much  to  take  them  out  of  the 
house  now.  The  General  had  become  so  keen  and  alert 
about  things  that  thirty  years  might  have  been  suddenly 
lifted  off  his  life,  and  as  I  became  aware  of  how  they 
were  being  sought  by  the  neighbours — we  called  every- 
one within  thirty  miles  neighbours — and  being  asked 


312  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

here  and  there,  and  besought  to  take  up  this  and  that 
position,  I  was  conscious  of  an  odd  kind  of  jealousy. 
General  MacNeill  and  Rose  Hill  had  seemed  so  much  to 
belong  to  me,  that  if  it  was  going  to  be  swamped  now  by 
the  county  families,  and  I  driven  out,  as  I  surely  should 
be  if  they  came  in, — well  then,  I  shouldn't  be  too  well 
pleased,  that  was  all. 

Certainly  they  had  not  come  yet,  and  the  greater  stir 
in  the  house  caused  by  its  new  inhabitant  was  so  far 
distinctly  pleasant.  Mary  O'Connor  felt  it  as  I  did. 

"  'Tis  more  heartsome  like,"  she  said  to  me  one  day,  "  to 
have  the  young  master  to  do  for.  The  General  is  a 
desperate  tidy  gentleman,  an'  if  it  was  only  the  cigar-ash 
on  the  floor,  or  the  clothes  flung  anyway  about  the  room, 
or  even  the  bath-water  splashed  to  that  unchristian 
extent  that  it  comes  through  the  dinin'-room  ceilin',  I'd 
rather  have  a  young  gentleman  to  look  after.  Let  alone 
that  that  Hawkins  waits  on  the  ould  master  like  a  cat  in 
boots,  till  the  silence  and  the  tidiness  grew  so  lonesome 
that  I  often  had  a  mind  to  take  a  stravague  through  the 
rooms  meself  an'  turn  everything  upside  down.  But, 
glory  be!  that  onnatural  temptation  is  removed  from 
my  path  to-day." 

Captain  MacNeill  was  quite  a  long  time  at  home  before 
he  saw  Esther.  She  was  not  well  in  those  days,  and 
rather  shrunk  from  meeting  strangers.  I  used  to  wonder 
how  the  sight  of  her  would  aflect  him,  for  though  Esther 
needed  happiness  to  bring  out  her  beauty  in  full  bloom, 
yet  the  sorrow  that  dimmed  her  colour  had  given  her 
eyes  a  more  mysterious  midnight  beauty,  so  that,  to  my 
mind,  she  was  lovelier  for  anyone  who  had  eyes  to  see. 


THE   UGLY   DUCKLING.  313 

I  was  quite  anxious  that  they  should  meet,  and  yet  I 
had  a  curious  shrinking  from  it.  My  anxiety  was  as  for 
something  painful  that  has  to  be  gone  through,  and  the 
sooner  the  better. 

For  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  Captain  MacNeill 
must  inevitably  fall  in  love  with  Esther.  I  used  to  sit 
and  look  at  her  silently  and  try  to  see  her  as  he  would, 
and  I  said  to  myself  that  it  was  inevitable.  Before 
Esther's  eyes,  and  Esther's  hair,  and  Esther's  lovely 
colour — 

Brown  is  my  Love,  but  graceful, 

And  each  renowned  whiteness 
Matched  with  that  lovely  brown  loseth  its  brightness. 

—what  chance  would  there  be  for  blue  eyes  and  pale 
cheeks  and  pale  hair — if  such  desired  to  be  remembered? 

And  if  he  came  to  love  Esther,  would  she  not  in  time 
turn  to  his  love  and  forget  her  boyish  lover?  Why,  that 
was  inevitable  too.  The  elder,  stronger  man  was,  it 
seemed  to  me,  so  much  more  love-worthy.  For  in  regard 
to  Esther's  love  of  Harry  De  Lacy  I  had  always  a  little 
wonder.  Now  with  me  my  love  should  be  the  stronger 
one,  not  I.  And  yet  it  seemed  that  the  gentleness,  the 
dependence,  the  need  of  Esther's  lover  was  the  dearest 
element  in  her  love  for  him. 

Ah  well!  there  are  different  ways  of  loving,  and  she 
might  yet  love  differently.  Somehow,  as  I  thought  these 
things,  I  seemed  to  be  the  spectator  of  a  drama  in  which 
I  had  no  part.  What  part  was  cast  for  me  indeed — plain, 
little,  with  a  limping  foot — but  to  look  at  happiness 
through  the  eyes  of  others?  Yet  I  was  not  resigned. 


314  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

On  the  contrary,  my  compassion  for  myself  was  so 
poignant  that  I  often  melted  into  tears. 

At  last  the  meeting  came  about.  I  was  at  Annagower 
one  afternoon,  when,  about  tea-time,  the  General  and 
Captain  MacNeill  were  announced.  It  was  nearly  twilight, 
and  we  were  sitting  by  a  leaping  fire.  Esther  was  listless 
enough,  but  the  fire  gave  a  simulated  life  to  her  beauty, 
putting  golden  deeps  into  the  darkness  of  her  eyes,  and 
bronze  lights  amid  the  shadows  of  her  hair.  She  had  a 
pretty  pink  frock  of  nun's  veiling,  and  a  handful  of 
bronze  leaves  pinned  in  the  soft  folds  at  her  throat. 

I  drew  back  in  the  shadows  to  see  how  Captain 
MacNeill  took  his  first  introduction  to  her.  He  looked 
at  her  alertly  indeed,  and  when  he  had  sat  down  in  my 
corner  beside  me  he  looked  at  her  again.  I  did  not  know 
whether  I  was  sorry  or  glad.  There  was  admiration  in 
his  look,  but  it  was  an  admiration  entirely  impersonal 
and  distant;  and  after  those  two  glances  he  looked  only 
at  me. 

He  had  been  at  home  now  several  weeks,  and  in  a  day 
or  two  he  and  his  father  were  going  to  London.  There 
was  business  to  be  done,  but  they  had  been  putting  it  off 
week  after  week,  being  so  delightfully  happy  with  each 
other  at  Rose  Hill. 

The  day  after  their  call  at  Annagower  I  was  in  the 
library  at  Rose  Hill.  I  had  come  in  by  the  side  door 
unannounced,  and  imagined  I  had  the  house  to  myself, 
pretty  well,  as  usual,  till  the  door  opened  and  Captain 
MacNeill  walked  hi. 

"Why,"  I  said,  "are  you  at  home  to-day?" 

"Yes;  don't  look  so  distressed  about  it.     My  father  is 


THE  UGLY  DUCKLING.  315 

at  the  Petty  Sessions  at  Raheenduff.  This  is  the  first  day 
he  takes  his  seat  on  the  bench.  And  here  am  I,  like  the 
little  boy  in  the  story,  who  had  no  one  to  play  with,  and 
appealed  to  all  the  insects  in  turn,  but  they  were  all  too 
busy.  Miss  Hilda,  are  you  too  busy,  or  may  I  sit  down 
here?" 

"  You  may,  if  you  will  tell  me  first  which  of  the  insects 
I  represent?"  I  said  severely. 

"  It's  too  hard,  Miss  Hilda.  Let  it  be  a  bird  or  a  flower," 
he  said  with  imploring  eyes. 

I  passed  over  the  suggestion  in  silence.  Then  I  rushed 
awkwardly  into  a  subject  which  had  been  much  in  my 
mind. 

"  I  was  glad  you  met  my  sister  yesterday.  I  have 
always  wanted  you  to  meet  her." 

"  Thank  you.  I  was  very  pleased  to  meet  her,"  he  said 
simply. 

"  She  is  my  chum  of  all  the  family,"  I  said.  "  I  think 
there  is  no  one  like  Esther." 

"  She  is  a  very  lovely  creature,"  he  answered. 

"You  remembered  her  again?"  I  asked. 

"  No,"  he  said,  looking  at  me  questioningly.  "  Did  I  see 
her  before?" 

Well,  I  don't  mind  confessing  that  a  little  wave  of  joy 
rushed  over  my  heart.  I  could  hardly  keep  my  voice 
still  as  I  answered  him,  for  I  had  told  myself  so  often 
that  his  eyes  that  day  long  ago  must  have  been  for 
Esther. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  I.  "  She  was  with  me  that  day 
at  Annagassan  races." 

"  I  only  saw  one  face  there,"  he  said  softly. 


316  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Miss  Pettigrew's?"  I  asked  mischievously. 

"Miss  Pettigrew!"  he  repeated  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  you  remember  you  were  walking  with  her  when 
you  first  passed  close  to  our  shandrydan  early  in  the 
day?" 

"Ah!  I  remember;  I  had  forgotten  her  name.  Some- 
one, a  man  in  my  regiment,  had  asked  me  to  take  her  to 
see  the  leaping  at  the  stone  wall.  I  never  saw  her  after- 
wards. But" — with  a  flash  of  triumph — "you  noticed 
me  then  and  remembered  me?" 

"I  couldn't  help  it.  You  were  looking  at  us  when  I 
was  capering  about  because  an  Irish  horse  had  won." 

"  I  can  see  you  now,"  he  said. 

"Don't,  please!"  I  cried  out.  "I  must  have  looked  too 
silly." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  how  you  looked?" 

My  eyes  dropped  before  his,  and  I  trembled,  but  I  said 
nothing. 

"I  will  tell  you  then.  I  thought  you  the  dearest, 
sweetest,  softest  little  white-and-gold  girl  in  all  the 
world." 

"Oh!"  I  cried  out,  and  held  my  fingers  tightly  across 
my  eyes.  "  You  couldn't.  I  am  Hilda  the  Ugly  Duck- 
ling. How  could  you  look  at  me  when  Esther  was 
there?" 

"  Perhaps  I  like  ugly  ducklings,"  he  said. 

"And  I  have  a  lame  foot!"  I  cried. 

"Dear  little  foot!     We  will  cure  it." 

I  removed  my  fingers  from  before  my  eyes  and  said: 

"The  Dublin  doctor  said  it  would  cure  itself.  I  am 
not  nearly  as  lame  as  I  used  to  be." 


THE   UGLY   DUCKLING.  317 

"Ah!  that  is  a  good  thing,"  he  answered,  laughing; 
"  but  even  if  it  were  not  curable,  do  you  think  that  would 
come  between  us?" 

I  said  nothing,  not  quite  knowing  what  to  say. 

"  Come  down  here,  you  white  witch,"  he  said  next,  "  or 
am  I  to  climb  your  ladder  for  you?" 

"  Oh,  I  will  come  down,"  I  said,  "but  why?" 

"  Because  I  want  the  size  of  your  finger.  I  will  bring 
you  the  prettiest  ring  I  can  find  in  Bond  Street." 

"  Your  father  will  think  it  very  sudden,"  I  said  lamely. 

"  He  will  sing  his  Nunc  Dimittis"  he  answered.  "  But 
we  will  keep  him  with  us  as  long  as  we  can  all  the  same." 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 

THE   WEB    OF    THE    SPIDER. 

I  REFUSED  to  wait  to  see  the  General,  but  rather 
made  Lance  take  me  home  early. 

"  I  won't  forbid  your  telling  him,"  I  said,  "  since  you 
think  it  will  make  him  so  happy,  but  I  don't  want  it 
talked  about  for  a  few  days,  till  I  have  grown  used  to  it, 
and  you  come  back." 

So  he  consented,  only  saying  how  unlike  we  were,  for 
he  wanted  everyone  to  know  his  new  importance;  and  I 
did  not  know  whether  he  jested  or  not. 

I  made  him  say  good-bye  to  me  on  the  doorstep  of 
Brandon,  and  watched  him  climb  into  the  dog-cart  again, 
grumbling  at  my  tyranny  and  want  of  hospitality.  I 
could  not  trust  myself  to  sit  opposite  him  in  the  presence 
of  Aline  and  the  others  without  betraying  my  secret,  over 
which  I  felt  so  exquisitely  shy. 

Dear  Aline  suspected  nothing,  but  was  quite  satisfied 
with  my  explanation  that  Captain  MacNeill  had  not  come 
in  because  he  wanted  to  be  back  in  time  to  meet  his 
father. 

And  now  began  for  me  the  strangest,  goldenest,  most 
exquisite  time  of  dreams.  It  might  have  been  Mayjn 
the  world  instead  of  January,  and  the  sun  shining  instead 


THE   WEB   OF  THE   SPIDER.  319 

of  the  rain  incessantly  falling.  That  was  a  terribly  wet 
season — the  wettest,  said  the  old  people,  that  the  longest 
memory  could  recall. 

There  was  distress  in  Brandon  village,  and  all  about  the 
country.  Rotting  thatch  was  falling  into  the  poor  cabins 
and  on  to  the  reeking  mud  floors,  so  that  in  many  cases 
the  wretched  fires  of  half -green  twigs  were  extinguished 
and  the  bed  whereon  the  sick  or  the  old  or  the  babies 
lay  went  travelling  round  the  bare  walls,  seeking  a  sound 
spot  where  the  rain  would  not  find  it.  It  was  at  such 
times  of  distress  that  we  felt  our  poverty  most  keenly, 
though  I  think  our  good  people  knew  as  well  as  we 
did  how  great  our  will  was  to  help  them. 

Yet  even  the  trouble  of  others  could  not  damp  my  joy 
in  those  days,  or  at  least  it  shadowed  my  life  on  only  one 
side  of  it,  and  the  other  lay  incessantly  turned  to  the  sun. 

But  still  I  thought  a  good  deal  about  Esther's  trouble, 
which  I  seemed  to  understand  better  in  the  light  of  my 
own  joy.  Amid  my  thanksgivings  for  my  own  sweet 
happiness,  I  prayed  hard  for  her  that  her  trouble  might 
be  removed  and  her  joy  given  back,  if  God  saw  well  to 
do  it. 

We  had  not  met  since  the  great  downpour  began,  and 
that  was  the  very  day  Lance  and  his  father  set  out  for 
London.  It  was  no  weather  for  being  out  of  doors,  and 
we  did  not  expect  the  little  brown  pony-chaise  to  come 
rattling  up  as  before.  The  great  sheets  of  leaden-gray 
water  that  fell  incessantly  would  have  been  enough  to 
sweep  the  little  pony  off  his  feet,  and  as  the  days  passed 
we  began  to  hear  stories  of  floods  covering  the  country, 
and  bridges  being  swept  away;  and  at  last  the  boys 


320  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

ran  in  one  morning  with  tidings  that  Brandon  River 
was  out,  and  was  bringing  down  hay-ricks,  turf-stacks, 
uprooted  trees,  and  even  little  drowned  mountain  sheep 
on  its  tide. 

But  one  morning  at  last  the  rain  ceased,  and  we 
looked  out  on  a  watery  world  indeed,  and  a  gray  sky 
without  a  rift  of  blue.  Still,  the  rain  had  ceased,  and 
for  that  we  were  devoutly  thankful. 

I  was  meditating  a  rush  out  to  get  some  fresh  air,  for 
it  seemed  likely  enough  that  the  rain  would  soon  begin 
again,  when  my  door  was  opened  softly  by  Bride,  the 
little  new  maid. 

"  If  you  please,  Miss,"  she  said  mysteriously,  "  this  was 
to  be  given  into  your  very  own  hands.  Little  Johnny 
from  the  Inch  Farm  has  come  with  it  this  minute." 

I  took  the  bit  of  paper  from  the  little  maid's  hand  in 
wonder,  and  she  went  out  nodding  and  smiling,  ap- 
parently well  satisfied  now  her  commission  was  safely 
executed. 

The  note  was  from  Esther,  and  was  written  in  pencil 
on  a  leaf  evidently  torn  from  a  note-book. 

Come  to  me  here,  Hilda,  at  the  Inch  Farm,  at  once, 
and  say  nothing  to  anybody.  I  want  you  more  than  I 
ever  did  in  my  life  before. — Esther. 

I  put  on  my  frieze  cape  and  a  cap,  to  be  equipped 
against  the  rain,  and  went  out  without  meeting  anybody. 

The  Inch  Farm  belonged  to  Michael  O'Flaherty,  the 
husband  of  Esther's  friend  Margaret,  Harry  De  Lacy's 
foster-mother.  I  guessed  that  the  urgent  message  had 
something  to  do  with  Esther's  lover,  and  as  I  got  over 
the  ground  as  quickly  as  possible,  I  was  praying  silently 


THE   WEB   OF  THE   SPIDER.  321 

that  there  might  not  be  further  grief  and  trouble  for  my 
poor  sister. 

The  Inch  Farm  lies  towards  the  river,  into  which  a 
portion  of  the  farm-land  projects  almost  like  an  island. 
It  is,  however,  connected  with  the  mainland,  except  when 
water  is  very  low  in  the  river,  by  a  rough  causeway  of 
stones.  But  fortunately  the  farmhouse  itself  lies  high  and 
dry  where  the  fields  ascend  towards  Brandon  Mountain. 

I  made  my  way  to  the  farmhouse  by  a  muddy  lane, 
and  through  a  farm-yard  full  of  quacking  ducks  and 
hissing  geese,  all  casting  weather-wise  eyes  to  the 
horizon.  At  the  kitchen  door,  which  was  nearer  to  me 
than  the  little  green  hall  door,  a  donkey  stood  under  his 
low- backed  car.  I  gave  a  glance  at  it  as  I  passed,  and 
noticed  with  surprise  that  the  cart  was  filled  with  rugs 
and  blankets,  and  apparently  a  very  comfortable  feather- 
bed. 

As  I  entered  the  kitchen  Mrs.  O'Flaherty's  smiling 
daughter  Katie,  a  rosy-cheeked,  black-eyed  slip  of  six- 
teen, came  to  meet  me. 

"  They're  waiting  for  you,  Miss,"  she  said  mysteriously, 
"  'idin  in  the  parlour." 

She  opened  the  door,  and  I  passed  into  that  close- 
smelling  sanctum  sanctorwm  of  an  Irish  farmhouse,  the 
best  parlour.  I  did  not  give  a  glance  at  its  glories.  It 
was  like  fifty  others  I  knew — trellised  wall-paper,  stiff 
white  muslin  curtains,  flowery  carpet  and  horse-hair 
furniture,  and  a  curious  country  smell  of  damp  and 
closed  windows. 

As  I  entered,  Esther  jumped  up  from  the  sofa  and  ran 
to  meet  me.  She  wore  her  out-of-door  apparel,  and  was 

( II  436  )  X 


322  THE  HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

evidently  making  a  vain  effort  to  take  some  of  Mrs. 
O'Flaherty's  seed-cake  and  sherry.  That  comfortable 
woman  herself  sat  (in  her  bonnet  and  with  a  great  air 
of  importance)  about  a  yard  from  the  table  and  her  own 
portion  of  wine  and  cake. 

"Oh,  Hilda  darling,  I'm  so  glad  you've  cornel"  said 
Esther,  hugging  me  impulsively.  "  Now,  Maggie,  you'll 
be  satisfied,"  she  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  O'Flaherty. 

"  You  know  I  didn't  want  to  cross  you,"  said  the  latter, 
"  and  with  one  of  the  family  to  bear  you  out  I've  nothing 
to  say." 

"But  what  is  it  all  about?"  I  asked. 

Mrs.  O'Flaherty  adjusted  her  bonnet-strings,  and  was 
evidently  about  to  answer  me  at  great  length  when 
Esther  interposed. 

"  The  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,"  she  said,  with  an 
excited  little  laugh,  "is — that  we  have  discovered  that 
Sir  Rupert  has  Harry  imprisoned  in  that  horrible  place, 
and  we're  going  to  kidnap  him.  There!"  she  said,  lifting 
her  finger,  "you  can  tell  Miss  Hilda  everything  about  it 
as  we  go  along,  Maggie.  We  had  better  start  now  while 
the  day  is  young  and  the  rain  holds  off." 

I  heard  everything  as  we  trudged  along  in  front  of  the 
donkey-cart,  while  the  rear  was  brought  up  by  Michael 
O'Flaherty  and  his  big  son  Larry. 

It  seemed  that  Mrs.  O'Flaherty's  youngest,  Tim,  had 
heard  so  much  of  Castle  Angry  in  the  days  of  his 
mother's  sojourn  there,  that  the  place  had  acquired  a 
fatal  fascination  for  him. 

"  Flyin'  kites  he'll  be,"  said  his  mother,  "  agin'  the  walls 
o'  that  unlucky  ould  house,  an'  prospectin'  for  pinkeens 


M436 

"HE  SEEN   THE  STONE  THAT   HAD   HIT  HIM,    AN*  A  BIT  OF   PAPER 
WRAPPED  AROUND   IT." 


THE  WEB   OF  THE   SPIDER.  323 

an'  dalgalukers  (i.e.  minnows  and  newts)  in  that  stinkin' 
moat,  till  I'm  expectin'  him  to  come  home  to  me  in 
quarters.  Shoutin'  out  at  night  he  does  be  with  the 
terror  of  the  drames  that  does  be  on  him,  that  Sir 
Rupert  has  him,  or  Yalla  Gaskin,  that's  worse,  or  them 
brutes  o'  dogs, — though  I  wouldn't  liken  them  that  can't 
sin  to  wicked  men.  But  'tis  the  nature  of  boys  that  the 
very  fear  draws  him.  He  owns  up  to  it  himself;  'Often,' 
he  says,  '  when  I  comes  to  the  ould  wood  I  do  be  diggin' 
me  finger-nails  in  the  threes  to  hould  me,  but  I  goes  on 
all  the  same.' 

"'Yerra,  my  boy,'  says  I,  'maybe  'tis  your  father's 
belt  will  be  houldiri  ye.'  But  he  minds  that  no  more  thin 
Sir  Rupert  or  the  dogs,  an'  'tis  a  long  time  the  same  belt's 
promised  him,  for  O'Flaherty's  soft-hearted,  an'  never 
could  bring  himself  to  batin'  the  childher. 

"  Well,  glory  be  to  Them  above  for  that  same  parvarsity 
of  the  boy,  for  the  day  before  yesterday  him  an'  the 
Widdy  Byrne's  innocent  son,  that  had  no  more  sinse  but 
to  follow  him,  was  paddlin'  in  the  moat,  enjoyin'  them- 
selves all  the  more  because  they  expected  every  minit 
'ud  be  their  last,  when  Johnny  was  struck  on  the  poll  by 
a  nate  lump  of  a  stone.  '  Murder!'  says  he, '  they're  stonin' 
me!'  for  he  had  no  more  thought  but  that  it  was  Gaskin's 
tricks.  Then  no  more  stones  came,  an'  when  he  had  felt 
his  poll  to  make  sure  there  wasn't  a  crack  in  it,  he  seen 
the  stone  that  had  hit  him  starin'  him  in  the  face,  an'  a 
bit  of  paper  wrapped  around  it. 

"Johnny's  no  scholar,  for  he's  always  mitchin'  from 
school,  but  he  had  the  sinse  to  put  the  thing  in  his 
pocket  an'  bring  it  home  to  me,  though  I'd  promised  him 


324  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

a  lambastin'  he'd  never  forgit  the  first  time  he  went 
near  Castle  Angry. 

"You  might  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  straw 
when  I  saw  the  bit  of  a  letter  was  addressed  to  meself. 
An'  there  it  was  from  my  beautiful  lamb  that  I'd  nursed, 
saying  that  he  was  too  ill  to  get  out  o'  that  unlucky 
ould  house  by  himself,  an'  had  no  one  to  help  him  but 
his  Maggie.  An'  if  I'd  come  to-day  he'd  be  able  to  open 
the  door  to  us,  for  Sir  Rupert  an'  Gaskin  were  to  be  off 
on  some  divilmint.  '  Bring  a  carriage  for  me/  says  he, 
'  for  I'm  a-past  walking.' " 

The  good  woman  paused  for  breath,  and  her  husband 
took  up  the  tale  with  a  broad  grin. 

"  I  sez  to  her  that  it  was  a  case  of  housebreakin',  an' 
'ud  bring  us  widin  the  law.  'If  you're  afeard,  Mike 
O'Flaherty,'  she  sez,  'say  so,  an'  I  goes  alone.'  'Is  it 
me  to  be  afeard  of  anything,  woman,'  says  I,  'an'  I  after 
marry  in'  you?'" 

He  looked  at  his  partner's  comely  face  with  a  jovial 
pride,  pleasant  to  witness. 

"  Maggie  wanted  me  not  to  come,"  said  Esther,  "  but  I 
said  I  must.  I  should  go  wild  not  knowing  what  was 
happening." 

"'Twas  common  prudence,  Miss,"  said  Mrs.  O'Flaherty. 
"  What  'ud  people  say  if  they  heard  that  Miss  Brandon 
was  housebreakin'  and  kidnappin'  at  Castle  Angry?" 

"  That  was  very  sensible  of  you,  Mrs.  O'Flaherty,"  I 
said. 

"  You'll  be  guided  by  your  own  sister  now,  Miss  Essie," 
said  the  good  woman,  nodding  severely  at  Esther. 

"I  only  satisfied  Maggie's  scruples  by  promising  that 


THE  WEB   OF  THE   SPIDER.  325 

you  would  come  to  give  the  sanction  of  the  family,  by 
your  presence,  to  my  unconventional  act." 

I  looked  at  Esther  with  amazement.  Her  eyes  were 
shining  and  her  cheeks  vividly  flushed.  Her  hair  was 
crisp  about  her  brow,  crisper  for  the  damp  air,  which 
was  deliciously  sweet.  She  walked  with  a  swinging 
step,  so  that  I  had  some  trouble  in  keeping  up  with  her. 
Was  this  the  languid  Esther  of  the  last  three  months, 
about  whom  I  had  often  a  dark  unexpressed  fear  lest 
she  should  be  going  the  way  that  Pierce  went? 

"  I  am  glad  you  let  her  come,  Mrs.  O'Flaherty,"  I  said 
soberly.  "  It  is  hard  to  sit  at  home  doing  nothing." 

Esther  looked  at  me  gratefully,  and  then  put  a  caress- 
ing arm  about  me. 

"  All  very  well,  Miss,"  said  Mrs.  O'Flaherty  gloomily. 
"But  how  will  it  be  if  Sir  Rupert  meets  us  with  a 
blunderbuss?" 

"Oh,  he  won't  do  that!"  said  I,  laughing,  though  in 
my  heart  I  wasn't  at  all  sure.  "  But  if  he  did,  what 
would  you  do,  Maggie?" 

"  Stan'  her  ground,"  answered  her  husband  for  her. 
"She's  a  great  Trojan,  Miss,  let  alone  that  the  foster- 
son's  more  to  her  than  her  own  flesh  and  blood." 

Our  way  lay  through  by-roads  and  coppices,  and  we 
met  no  one  to  wonder  at  our  strange  little  procession. 
Presently  the  donkey-cart  had  to  part  company  from  us, 
and  to  meet  us  again  after  a  detour,  because  the  road  was 
under  water,  and  we  could  only  pass  by  taking  to  the 
fields.  This  left  Esther  and  me  together,  for  Mrs. 
O'Flaherty  trudged  the  lanes  with  her  husband  and  her 
son. 


326  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

"  It's  an  odd  way  of  doing  it,  Essie,"  said  I. 

"  It  is,  Hilda,  but  the  only  way." 

"  I'd  rather  have  driven  up  in  a  carriage  in  broad  day- 
light and  taken  him  away,"  said  I. 

"  Supposing  Sir  Rupert  had  shut  the  gates  in  our  faces  ?" 

"  There  would  be  ways  of  making  him  open  them." 

"And  a  pretty  bit  of  scandal  for  the  county,  where 
there  is  already  too  much  scandal  about  my  Harry's 
grandfather." 

"  I  wish  the  General  had  been  here,"  I  said  uneasily. 

"  He  could  not  have  helped,  Hilda.  Don't  you  see  that 
the  thing  is  best  done  quietly?" 

"Does  your  godmother  know?" 

"  She  knows  I  am  with  you  this  morning.     That  is  all." 

"She  would  approve?" 

"Surely.  Do  you  know  her  and  doubt?  I  only  did 
not  tell  her  because  she  is  helpless  and  could  not  be  with 
us.  I  shall  go  to  her  straight  and  tell  her  as  soon  as  my 
Harry  is  safe  under  his  foster-mother's  wing  at  the  Inch 
Farm." 

"He  will  be  safe  there?" 

"Safer  than  anywhere  in  the  world, — except  with 
me." 

"And  afterwards,  Esther?" 

"  I  will  marry  him  as  soon  as  ever  it  can  be  arranged. 
My  godmother  will  help  me,  and  I  think  Mr.  Benson 
would  make  things  smooth  for  us." 

"  What  if  you  find  your  Harry  very  ill?" 

She  trembled,  and  for  a  moment  a  shadow  fell  upon 
her  radiant  face.  Then  it  lifted  again. 

"  I  look  to  find  him  ill.    When  he  is  so  helpless  that  he 


THE   WEB   OF  THE   SPIDER.  327 

has  had  to  remain  in  the  clutches  of  those  miscreants  for 
very  weakness,  he  must  be  ill  indeed.  But  there  is  the 
more  reason  for  hastening  our  marriage.  Happiness  will 
make  him  well." 

"  I  think  you  are  right,  Esther.  But  how  will  it  be  if 
Lady  O'Brien  and  Aline  take  the  prudent  view,  and  think 
you  should  wait  till  he  is  stronger?" 

"They  will  not,"  she  said  patiently;  "but  if  they  did 
I  should  still  know  I  was  right.  If  he  were  stronger  I 
could  wait  for  years." 

"  You  will  be  poor,  Essie." 

"Very,"  she  said  with  a  happy  smile.  "Or  at  least 
Harry  says  that  the  three  hundred  a  year  he  has  from 
his  mother  will  mean  poverty." 

"  And  Sir  Rupert,  they  say,  has  untold  gold  laid  up  in 
Castle  Angry,"  I  said  regretfully. 

"  Brandon  money,"  said  Esther,  "  the  fruits  of  fraud 
and  treachery.  We  would  not  touch  a  penny  of  it." 

"  You  won't  get  the  chance,  my  dear,"  said  I.  "  But 
what  do  you  think  Sir  Rupert  meant  by  keeping  Harry 
hidden  away  in  Castle  Angry?" 

"  God  knows,"  she  answered  with  a  little  shudder. 

"  He  lied  about  him  when  he  said  he  had  gone  away. 
Do  you  think  he  meant  to  keep  him  apart  from  you  as 
long  as  he  could?" 

"  Perhaps,"  she  answered. 

"  Or,  Esther,  do  you  think  he  thought  he  would  die  ? 
Why,  he  might  as  well  have  murdered  him  as  kept  him 
wasting  away  for  want  of  care  and  treatment.  Besides, 
before  he  grew  so  ill  they  must  have  detained  him  by 
force." 


328  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

Her  hands  closed  and  unclosed  themselves  spasmodi- 
cally. 

"  We  will  not  talk  about  it,"  she  said.  "  At  least  not 
now.  Let  God  judge  him." 

We  were  now  at  the  entrance  to  the  starved  and 
ragged  wood  which  grew  on  the  lower  slopes  of  Angry 
Mountain. 

"Let  us  wait  here,"  she  said,  "for  Maggie  and  the 
cart." 

And  now  that  we  were  approaching  the  place  of  evil 
omen  I  saw  that  she  had  grown  pale. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

OUT   OF   THE   WEB. 

WE  were  in  the  wood,  and  the  boggy  ground  under 
our  feet  was  giving  way  at  every  step.  The 
wood  seemed  all  bog  except  for  the  uneven  pathway 
which  gave,  in  dry  weather,  a  solid  resting  place.  On 
every  side,  under  the  tangled  boughs,  the  ground  was  a 
brilliant  treacherous  green.  No  rabbits  scutted  from 
under  our  feet  as  in  Brandon  Woods,  no  squirrel  ran 
lightly  from  bough  to  bough.  We  did  not  hear  a  bird 
chirp ;  all  the  naked  boughs  of  the  branches  showed  here 
and  there  a  startling  white  surface,  as  though  the  tree 
had  been  stripped  by  lightning.  A  wind  had  got  up, 
and  the  whole  wood  was  creaking  and  groaning.  The 
trees  were  many  of  them  very  old,  and  had  flung  them- 
selves in  strange  unnatural  postures;  the  knots  and 
gnarls  on  the  old  oaks  were  like  the  grinning  faces  in 
gargoyles.  It  was  easy  to  see  why  the  country  people 
were  afraid  of  Angry  Woods. 

Even  in  the  cold  light  of  morning  the  woods  were 
eerie.  In  dusk  they  must  look  as  if  peopled  by  a  multi- 
tude of  mocking  manikins,  with  here  and  there  among 
them  a  towering  white  ghost.  From  the  green  and  slimy 


330  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

bog,  on  which  if  you  trod  you  might  find  a  grave,  a 
thousand  gaily -coloured  fungi  sprang,  and  from  the 
joints  of  the  trees  immense  fairy  mushrooms  had  burst 
out  and  thriven  gigantically. 

"Quiet,  quiet,  Neddy!"  I  heard  Mike  O'Flaherty  say 
to  the  donkey,  whose  little  hoofs  he  was  guiding  upon 
the  pathway. 

"If  there's  another  downpour,"  he  called  out  to  us, 
"  the  path'U  be  washed  back  into  the  bog.  We're  not  a 
day  too  soon,  maybe,  about  our  business." 

We  answered  him  cheerfully  over  our  shoulders;  but 
the  wind  that  had  now  sprung  up  was  not  conducive  to 
conversation,  let  alone  that  the  noise  of  the  trees  was 
like  the  shrieking  and  groaning  of  wretches  under  the 
knout. 

"  'T would  be  as  well,"  I  said  to  Esther,  "  that  the  bog 
should  swallow  it.  This  is  a  horrible  place,  this  wood!" 
And  she  nodded  for  answer. 

Presently  we  were  clear  of  it,  and  climbing  up  the 
safer  way  through  the  ravine,  and  there  above  us  on  its 
plateau  was  Castle  Angry  frowning.  It  looked  livid  in 
the  watery  lights.  It  was  partly  stucco  and  partly  ugly 
yellow  brick,  and  the  tracks  of  the  rains  on  its  stuccoed 
face  were  like  great  veins,  as  you  saw  it  from  a  distance, 
or  like  green  and  dropping  tears. 

The  ravine  had  a  rocky  ridge  for  its  pathway  that 
seemed  as  if  at  some  time  it  had  been  the  bed  of  a  river 
which  had  scooped  the  earth  out  and  left  only  the  bones  of 
it.  We  trod  there  more  dry-foot,  despite  the  little  pools 
on  the  surface  of  it,  but  our  wet  boots  as  we  walked 
squished  and  squirted  uncomfortably. 


OUT   OF  THE  WEB.  331 

"  You'll  be  having  a  new  cold  to-morrow,  Esther,"  I  said. 

"  Not  I,"  she  said ;  "  if  Harry  is  safe  I  shall  have  no 
more  ills.  We  will  change  as  soon  as  ever  we  get  back." 

And  now  we  were  on  the  bright-green  plateau,  where 
the  grass  grew  coarse  and  rank,  and  again  the  water 
bubbled  about  our  feet.  The  face  of  Castle  Angry  turned 
this  way  was  eyeless,  and  I  was  glad  of  it,  for  I  would 
have  imagined  evil  faces  at  the  windows,  if  windows 
there  had  been. 

We  all  kept  closely  together  as  we  neared  the  gate,  at 
least  we  all  did  except  Esther,  for  she  ran  forward  lightly 
and  pulled  the  great  iron  bell-pull.  We  heard  the  bell 
sound  somewhere  deep  inside  the  Castle,  and  then  there 
came  a  roar  from  the  dogs  in  the  court-yard. 

Mike  O'Flaherty  moved  nearer  to  Esther,  as  if  to  pro- 
tect her,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  have  heard  the  dogs. 
She  was  listening  against  the  heavy  gateway,  with  the 
intent  expression  of  one  whose  heart  listens. 

Then  we  heard  a  voice  speak  to  the  dogs,  and  the 
baying  ceased.  There  was  the  rattle  of  a  chain  and  the 
drawing  of  a  bolt,  and  then  Harry  De  Lacy  stepped 
through  the  postern  and  was  in  the  midst  of  us. 

I  was  startled  at  the  change  in  him.  His  face  had 
lengthened  and  grown  hollow.  There  was  a  sparse 
growth  of  beard  about  his  young  cheeks,  and  his  eyes 
had  sunk  far  back  into  deep  spaces.  He  was  huddled 
in  a  great-coat,  and  it  was  evident  that  in  thus  escaping 
from  Castle  Angry  he  was  expending  all  his  remaining 
strength,  for  he  trembled  violently  as  he  stood. 

Then,  with  a  moan  of  compassion,  Esther  put  both  her 
arms  around  him. 


332  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  Come,  Mike,"  she  said,  "  he  is  exhausted." 

And  indeed  the  boy's  eyes  had  closed,  and  he  seemed 
to  be  swooning. 

"Easy  now,  Miss  Essie,  "said  Mike  O'Flaherty;  "give 
him  to  me." 

He  took  the  slight  figure  in  his  arms  and  lifted  it 
into  the  donkey-cart.  His  wife  settled  the  pillows  and 
tucked  in  the  blankets,  with  just  such  an  expression  as 
her  face  must  often  have  worn  when  Harry  De  Lacy  was 
a  helpless  child. 

"  They've  nearly  murdered  you,  acushla,"  she  said,  half 
to  herself;  "an'  to  think  your  Maggie  was  near,  an'  not 
knowing  till  'twas  too  late." 

While  they  were  making  the  invalid  easy,  I  stepped 
through  the  open  door  into  the  court-yard.  Opposite  to 
me  frowned  the  low,  prison-like  door  that  led  to  the 
Castle  itself.  I  longed  to  enter  it,  to  see  the  places  about 
which  there  were  so  many  legends,  but  there  was  no  time. 

The  court-yard  itself  was  like  a  deep  well  into  which 
little  light  entered.  Round  about  it  were  little  staring 
windows,  unprotected  by  ivy.  Not  a  green  thing  grew  in 
the  place,  though  the  broken  pavement  was  slimy  with 
damp. 

At  one  side  the  dogs  were  chained  to  heavy  staples  in 
the  wall — great,  lumbering,  piteous-looking  brutes,  with 
their  eyes  full  of  blood.  I  did  not  feel  afraid  of  them, 
and  they  showed  no  hostility.  One,  an  old  yellow  dog, 
with  sharp  fangs,  was,  I  thought,  the  one  Sir  Rupert  had 
called  "  Venom  "  that  day  he  had  ridden  under  my  tree 
long  ago,  but  I  could  not  be  sure. 

The  dogs  looked  beyond  me  to  the  postern,  through 


OUT   OF  THE   WEB.  333 

which  Harry  De  Lacy  had  passed,  and  their  eyes  were 
full  of  despair.  I  could  well  believe  that  they  knew  they 
were  losing  their  one  friend. 

"Poor  brutes!"  I  said  to  them.  "I  wish  we  could  take 
you  too." 

But  they  looked  away  from  my  voice  still  towards 
the  postern- gate. 

"  Come,  Hilda,"  said  Esther,  close  to  me,  "  we  are  ready 
now,  and  it  is  time  we  were  gone." 

I  looked  round  the  place  once  more,  and  then  stepped 
back  across  the  threshold  and  pulled-to  the  door.  As  I 
did  so  the  dogs  set  up  a  dismal  howling,  and  as  long  as  we 
were  within  earshot  of  the  place  the  sound  followed  us. 

Larry  now  went  in  front,  leading  the  donkey.  On  either 
side  of  the  cart  Esther  and  Mrs.  O'Flaherty  walked,  each 
watching  absorbedly  the  face  so  dear  to  both  of  them, 
the  face  of  the  dead  it  might  be,  as  it  lay  helplessly  on 
the  pillows,  but  moving  to  and  fro  with  the  motion  of 
the  cart. 

Mike  O'Flaherty  and  I  walked  behind,  and  the  peasant's 
florid  face  wore  an  unusually  grave  look. 

"  'Twill  be  too  bad,  Miss  Hilda,"  he  said,  as  the  cart 
disappeared  from  us  round  the  bend  of  a  path,  "  if  we've 
only  got  him  out  to  lose  him  after  all." 

"  It  will,  Mike,"  said  I;  "  but,  please  God,  that  won't  be." 

"Amen,  Miss  Hilda;  but  he  looks  mortal  bad." 

"  He  is  young,  Mike,  and,  God  willing,  he  will  recover. 
Your  wife's  nursing  will  do  wonders  for  him." 

"Oh,  the  woman'll  do  her  best!  Tis  wonderful  what 
nature  is  in  women  for  the  childher  they've  rared.  I 
doubt  now  if  she's  as  much  took  up  wid  her  own  Johnny." 


334  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  she  is!"  said  I,  fearing  a  tinge  of  jealousy 
in  the  speech  of  the  good-natured  giant;  "only,  you  see, 
Johnny  hasn't  the  great  need  of  her  that  her  foster-son 
has  just  now." 

"True  for  you,  Miss  Hilda.  The  woman's  love  goes 
where  the  need  is  greatest,  an'  thank  God  for  that 
same." 

"  Your  Johnny  did  us  a  great  service,  Mike,"  I  said. 
"  I  know  my  sister  will  never  forget  it." 

"  He  did  so,  the  young  thief  o'  the  world, — an',  would 
you  believe  it,  when  it  was  all  done  herself  threatened 
the  boy  with  the  belt,  and  left  him  bawlin'  melia  murther." 

"  I  suppose  Mrs.  O'Flaherty  thought  discipline  should 
be  maintained  at  all  costs." 

"  Indeed  she's  the  wonderful  woman  entirely,"  said  her 
spouse  admiringly. 

"  What  will  you  do,  Mike,"  said  I,  "  if  Sir  Rupert  finds 
out  your  share  in  kidnapping  his  grandson,  and  makes 
trouble?" 

"  Show  the  ould  villain  the  barrel  o'  me  blunderbuss," 
said  Mike.  "Oh,  indeed,  Miss  Hilda,  I'm  a  stout  man 
on  me  own  hearthstone!  I  wouldn't  be  half  the  man 
to  face  him  up  there,  though  he's  ould,  an'  I  could  twist 
Gaskin's  neck  as  easy  as  a  chicken's.  But  the  place  sends 
the  cowld  to  my  heart." 

"  It  does  to  mine  too,  Mike,"  said  I. 

"  Ah,  see  there  now !  There  was  a  power  o'  wicked- 
ness done  in  it  in  ould  times.  'Tis  the  smell  of  it  about 
the  place  makes  your  blood  run  cowld." 

"  I  suppose  there  was,"  I  said. 

"You  may  say  it.     There's  a  hole  under  it,  I  hear, 


OUT  OF  THE  WEB.  335 

where  they  used  to  sling  prisoners  in  the  ould  times.  It 
went  right  through  into  the  heart  o'  the  world,  maybe 
as  far  as  the  fires,  for  all  I  know.  There  was  no  end  to 
it  anyhow,  an'  they  say  you  could  hear  the  poor  souls 
slippin'  an'  screechin'  long  after  they  fell.  I  never  seen 
it  meself,"  added  Mike  impartially. 

We  were  now  come  to  the  wood,  where  the  trees  were 
still  creaking  and  groaning,  while  now  and  again  a  broken 
branch  flapped  in  our  faces. 

"  Tis  well  they  may  lament,"  said  Mike.  "  A-many  a 
fine  fellow  hung  on  them  in  ould  days  wid  the  feet  of  him 
kickin'  in  air.  There's  a  Curse  on  the  place,  that's  what 
there  is,  Miss  Hilda,  an'  I'd  never  have  come  next  or 
nigh  it  but  that  herself  shamed  me  to  it." 

"  I  hope  Mr.  De  Lacy  will  escape  the  Curse,  if  there  is 
one,"  said  I. 

"  Och  sure,  if  we  can  get  him  well  an'  marry  him  to 
Miss  Essie  the  ould  Curse  '11  rowl  off  him  like  water  off  a 
duck's  back.  Sure  he's  not  like  a  De  Lacy  at  all.  His 
father  before  him  took  the  turn  against  the  ould  bad 
ways,  an'  himself  here  is  the  better  man.  If  we  can  only 
get  him  well,"  he  added. 

There  was  a  patter  of  rain  in  our  faces,  and  the  wood 
trembled  before  a  fresh  onslaught  of  wind. 

"Glory  be!  I  hope  it's  not  going  to  rain  again,"  said 
Mike.  "  If  it  does,  there's  no  knowin'  what'll  be  hap- 
penin'.  I've  never  seen  the  country  under  such  rain 
before.  The  year  o'  the  big  rain  they  might  be  callin'  it." 

"  It's  hard  on  you,  Mike,"  I  said  sympathetically. 

"  It  is.  The  seed's  nigh  washed  out  of  the  earth,  an'  I 
never  knew  as  hard  a  season  for  the  lambs.  But  'tis 


336  THE  HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

worse  wid  some  others.  I've  a  stout  roof  over  me,  thank 
God,  an'  fine  foundations.  If  the  rain  comes  on  again 
there'll  be  many  a  little  rickety  cabin  washed  out  to 
sea.  The  fear's  on  them  already,  the  crathurs." 

"The  fear,  Mike?" 

"Aye,  the  fear.  They're  as  frightened  as  sheep  of 
somethin'  that's  goin'  to  happen,  they  don't  know  what. 
There's  keenin'  an'  manifestations  by  night,  they  say,  an' 
some  say  the  dead  rises  out  o'  their  graves  night  after 
night  in  the  Bawn  churchyard  an'  walks  the  world." 

"Oh  dear!"  I  said,  shivering  with  infectious  super- 
stition, "  I'd  no  idea  there  were  such  stories  about." 

"  Well,  there  might  be.  They  say  some  of  the  coffins 
have  been  washed  out  of  the  graves.  The  Bawn  lies  on 
a  shelf  o'  land,  as  you  know,  Miss  Hilda;  an'  people 
comin'  on  them  things  by  night  in  the  middle  o'  the  road 
is  apt  to  be  onraisonable  afraid." 

"  I  should  think  so,  indeed,"  said  I. 

"  Father  deary's  in  an'  out  among  the  people  constant. 
All  the  sick  an'  aged  people  is  wanting  the  last  sacra- 
ment, like  as  if  the  world  was  comin'  to  an  end.  He 
spoke  agin  the  fear  that's  on  the  people  last  Sunday 
from  the  altar,  an'  said  it  was  a  delusion  of  the  Powers 
o'  Darkness.  But  'tis  no  use  his  talkin'.  They  say  the 
priest  has  great  power  over  heaven  and  hell,  but  there's 
a  world  that's  nayther,  nor  yet  earth,  an'  he  can't  put 
his  comether  on  that." 

Mike  had  entertained  me  but  gloomily.  I  knew  the 
superstitions  among  the  people,  superstitions  that  rose  as 
naturally  out  of  the  damp  earth  as  the  mists  and  the 
vapours.  Our  valleys  are  hemmed  in  by  immense  and 


OUT   OF   THE   WEB.  337 

lonely  mountains,  round  which  the  clouds  hang  like  a 
winding-sheet.  Our  people  are  fishers  or  small  farmers, 
engaged  for  ever  in  the  struggle  to  win  a  bare  subsis- 
tence against  all  the  forces  of  nature.  A  wet  summer 
means  death  and  famine  by  land.  A  wild  winter  the 
same  doom  by  sea.  No  wonder  that  superstition 
flourishes,  that  the  belief  in  fairy  and  ghost  and  wraith 
is  wrought  up  so  inextricably  with  the  belief  in  saints 
and  angels,  that  one  could  hardly  pull  up  one  without 
the  other,  the  weeds  without  the  golden  corn. 

It  was  weather  to  foster  the  Celtic  melancholy,  and  if 
it  were  going  to  rain  again  then  it  might  well  be  that 
calamity  would  follow. 

But  now  we  were  at  the  Inch  Farm,  and  presently  in 
the  roomy  kitchen  with  its  leaping  wood  fire.  Mike  and 
his  son  lifted  the  feather-bed  bodily  out  of  the  donkey- 
cart  and  carried  it  to  a  bedroom  where  a  fire  had  been 
lit.  Esther  watched  all  this  hungrily  as  if  she  would 
have  fain  done  everything  herself. 

Mrs.  O'Flaherty  meanwhile  issued  her  orders  like  a 
general.  Johnny  was  despatched  for  Dr.  Rivers,  and 
Esther  and  I  were  installed  in  big  chairs  before  the  fire. 
Our  wet  shoes  and  stockings  were  pulled  off  quickly  and 
replaced  by  fleecy  stockings  of  Mrs.  O'Flaherty's  own 
knitting. 

While  she  was  doing  this  her  daughter  Katie  was 
serving  up  a  meal  of  toasted  bacon  and  eggs  on  a  table  at 
our  elbow. 

"  Now  eat,  jewels,"  said  our  kind  hostess,  "  while  I  look 
after  my  baby.  Larry '11  rowl  yez  back  to  Brandon  on 
the  side  car  as  soon  as  ever  Dr.  Rivers  has  gone,  an'  the 

(  M  436  )  Y 


338  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

sooner  yez  are  back  the  better,  for  I'm  sore  afraid  of  the 
weary  ould  rain  beginnin'  again." 

Then  she  bustled  off  to  see  to  her  baby,  as  she  still 
called  Harry  De  Lacy. 

I  was  glad  that  Esther  seemed  content  to  leave  him  in 
her  charge.  Dr.  Rivers  had  come  before  we  were  ready 
to  start,  having  fortunately  been  at  home  when  Johnny 
arrived.  He  was  a  much  more  efficient  doctor  than  poor 
old  Dr.  Devine,  and  it  was  fortunate  that  when  he  left 
the  army  he  had  decided  to  settle  down  in  our  neigh- 
bourhood. 

He  came  into  the  parlour  to  us  after  he  had  seen  his 
patient. 

"  Well,  Dr.  Rivers,  what  do  you  think  of  him?"  Esther 
said,  jumping  up  as  soon  as  the  door  opened. 

" Oh,  Miss  Brandon,  how  do  you  do?"  he  said.  "I  see 
you  have  not  lost  interest  in  Mr.  De  Lacy." 

He  looked  at  her  with  his  keen,  man-of-the-world 
eyes. 

"  We  are  to  be  married,  Dr.  Rivers,"  said  Esther,  with 
a  pathetic  little  air  of  dignity. 

The  doctor's  face  changed,  and  oecame  full  of  sym- 
pathy. 

"Oh,  indeed!"  he  said;  "no  wonder  you  are  anxious. 
There  is  nothing  really  the  matter  except  that  his  vitality 
has  been  greatly  reduced.  What  have  they  been  doing  to 
him  since  I  put  him  out  of  my  hands  at  Brandon,  well  on 
the  way  to  recovery?" 

Esther  told  him  briefly  of  the  young  man's  detention 
at  Castle  Angry,  and  of  our  rescue  of  him.  He  nodded 
at  intervals  during  the  telling. 


OUT   OF  THE   WEB.  339 

"Ah!  Miss  Brandon,"  he  said  when  she  had  finished, 
"one  comes  on  strange  happenings  in  one's  profession, 
but  this  is  like  a  tale  out  of  a  book,  and  no  sober  nine- 
teenth-century business  at  all.  Can  you  explain  Sir 
Rupert's  rancour  against  his  grandson?" 

"  There  is  enmity  of  long  standing  between  Sir  Rupert 
and  our  family.  He  probably  thought  that  if  he  could 
keep  his  grandson  long  enough  from  his  friends  the 
matter  of  our  engagement  would  fall  through." 

"He  would  have  slipped  through  his  fingers  very  soon," 
said  the  physician  grimly.  "  The  man  must  be  mad.  If 
the  lad  had  died  of  neglect  and  semi-starvation  it  would 
have  been  manslaughter  at  least.  As  it  is,"  he  said 
hastily,  noticing  that  my  sister  had  turned  pale,  "  I 
believe  you  have  saved  him,  Miss  Brandon,  though  there 
is  a  lot  of  building-up  required.  Still,  he  is  young,  and 
happiness  is  a  wonderful  cure.  You  are  leaving  him  in 
Mrs.  O'Flaherty's  care?" 

"  Till  he  is  a  little  stronger.  She  is  his  foster-mother, 
and  will  watch  over  him  with  the  utmost  tenderness." 

"And  afterwards?" 

"We  will  be  married  as  soon  as  possible,  and  I  shall 
take  him  abroad." 

I  wondered  for  the  hundredth  time  at  the  power  and 
resolution  that  had  come  into  Esther  with  her  love. 
Here  she  was  arranging  the  future  for  herself  and  her 
lover  as  I  should  never  have  dared  to  do. 

"  Ah !  that  will  be  good,"  said  Dr.  Rivers.  "  Get  him 
away  from  places  that  are  painful  by  association,  as  soon 
as  possible.  Above  all,  keep  him  from  any  conflict  with 
his  grandfather." 


340  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  I  don't  think  he  will  come  into  our  lives  again,"  said 
Esther,  her  face  darkening.  "If  he  should,  we  must 
protect  ourselves  at  any  cost.  But  at  present  you  under- 
stand, Dr.  Rivers,  we  are  anxious  to  avoid  publicity  and 
scandal." 

"  The  matter  is  safe  with  me,  Miss  Brandon,"  said  the 
physician,  bowing.  "  We  have  to  hear  so  many  strange 
things  in  the  course  of  our  profession  that  it  would  never 
do  if  we  were  not  men  of  discretion." 

"  Thank  you,  Dr.  Rivers,"  said  my  sister  heartily,  as  he 
took  leave  of  us. 

Larry  drove  us  home  on  a  jaunting-car  that  reminded 
me  of  our  equipage  long  ago  at  Annagassan  Races.  As  we 
drove  along,  the  mountains  were  gray  with  rain,  and  the 
first  fine  sweep  of  it  came  in  our  faces. 

"  How  shall  I  get  back  to  Annagower  if  it  comes  on  to 
rain  heavily?"  said  Esther,  as  we  leant  close  together 
under  an  umbrella. 

"  Don't  go  back  to-night,  Essie,"  said  I.  "  Sleep  with 
me  as  in  the  old  times.  We  can  send  word  to  Lady 
O'Brien  that  the  weather  has  kept  you." 

"  I  should  like  to  stay,"  she  said. 

"I  have  such  wonderful  things  to  tell  you,  Essie,"  I 
whispered,  "  about  myself" 

She  looked  at  me  with  wonder. 

"More  literary  successes,  Hilda?"  she  asked. 

"  No,  Essie,  not  literary  successes." 

"And  what,  then,  Hilda?" 

She  turned  straight  round,  letting  the  umbrella  drip 
upon  our  heads,  unnoticed,  and  looked  into  my  eyes. 

"Not  that,  Hilda?"  she  said,  incredulously. 


OUT   OF   THE   WEB.  341 

"And  why  not  that?"  I  cried.  "I  suppose  you  think 
no  one  in  the  world  has  a  lover  but  yourself." 

"You  darling!"  she  said;  "and  to  think  I  can't  hug  you 
because  of  this  umbrella!" 

"  You  might  as  well,  Essie,  for  the  rain  has  been  pour- 
ing down  my  spine  in  a  perfect  cascade  for  the  last  five 
minutes." 

"Oh,  I  am  sorry,  you  poor  child!  But  here  we  are 
at  Brandon.  Find  me  a  messenger  for  my  godmother, 
Hilda,  and  I  shall  stay,  and  we  shall  have  a  dearer  talk 
than  ever  we  had  in  the  old  days.  Oh,  to  think,"  she  cried, 
as  she  furled,  much  to  my  relief,  that  most  inefficient 
umbrella,  "that  all  our  dreams  should  have  come  true! 
Oh,  how  good  God  is,  Hilda,  how  good  God  is!" 

I  looked  at  her  glowing  face  in  wonder.  Clearly  there 
was  no  misgiving  for  the  future  in  it.  Her  joy  and  faith 
were  infectious,  and  I  too  felt  my  heart  singing  a  song, 
despite  the  rain  and  the  gloom,  and  despite  my  memory 
of  the  worn  and  haggard  young  face  of  Esther's  lover. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

THE   LAST  OF  CASTLE  ANGRY. 

WE  captured  little  Tim  Brophy  from  Brandon  village, 
just  as  he  turned  away  after  delivering  his  basket 
of  eggs  at  the  kitchen-door,  and  kept  him  till  Esther's 
note  to  her  godmother  was  written. 

"  Run  fast,  Tim,"  said  Esther  as  she  gave  it  to  him,  "  or 
you'll  be  drenched  before  you  get  back." 

"Never  fear,  Miss  Esther,"  he  answered  cheerfully. 
"  I'll  be  back  before  I'm  gone." 

And,  to  judge  by  the  rate  of  speed  at  which  his  bare 
legs  and  red  head  disappeared,  he  would  keep  his  word 
in  the  spirit,  if  not  in  the  letter. 

We  sat  with  Aline  in  her  lamp-lit  room  over  the  tea- 
cups, and  Esther  made  her  confession,  even  to  the  events 
of  the  morning. 

Poor  Aline  looked  bewildered  as  the  tale  proceeded. 

"Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "you  seem  to  have  been  making 
your  own  life,  Esther.  I  hope  you  are  going  to  be  happy, 
my  dear,  but" — with  a  little  hurt  look — "  I  am  so  much 
in  the  dark  nowadays.  First  it  is  Freda,  and  now  Essie 
who  has  a  story  to  tell,  and  I  am  the  last  to  hear  it. 
Perhaps  it  is  my  own  fault  that  I  do  not  understand  you 
girls." 


THE  LAST  OF  CASTLE  ANGRY.  343 

Now  at  this  I  had  a  great  qualm,  for  here  was  I,  too, 
keeping  Aline  in  the  dark. 

"It  is  only  because  they  had  troubles,  darling,  that 
they  kept  secrets  from  you,"  I  cried  impulsively.  "  You 
have  always  been  carrying  the  whole  of  us  on  your 
shoulders,  and  have  had  so  much  trouble  already." 

And  with  that  I  burst  out  with  the  whole  story  of  my 
own  lover,  which  I  had  indeed  intended  to  tell  no  one  but 
Esther,  until  he  returned.  When  I  had  finished,  Aline 
kissed  me  and  then  laughed. 

"  It  is  too  much  for  one  day,  children,"  she  said.  "  Per- 
haps even  now  the  twins  are  on  their  way  to  me  with 
news  of  their  betrothal." 

Then  I  knew  she  was  pleased  that  I  was  to  marry 
Lance.  Indeed,  when  did  she  ever  think  of  anything  but 
our  happiness  ?  To  both  Esther  and  myself  she  was  full 
of  sweetness,  but  I  could  see  that  she  was  anxious  lest 
further  trouble  should  be  on  its  way  to  poor  Essie,  though 
she  said  frankly  that  she  believed  Harry  De  Lacy  was  as 
good  as  his  grandfather  was  wicked.  Still,  his  delicate 
health  troubled  her,  and  I  imagine  that  in  her  heart  she 
dreaded  further  evil  from  Sir  Rupert. 

While  we  sat  in  the  white-panelled  room  we  heard  the 
rain  beating  sharply  against  the  windows,  and  as  the 
evening  darkened  came  the  rumbling  of  distant  thunder. 
Aline  sent  hurriedly  to  know  if  all  her  little  flock  was 
safe  indoors.  Yes,  the  boys  were  amicably  engaged  in 
teaching  the  twins  to  play  chess,  in  the  comfortable 
downstairs  room  which  belonged  to  the  younger  ones, 
and  which  we  seldom  invaded. 

"Ah!"  said  Aline  with  a  sigh,  "we  ought  to  be  thankful, 


344  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

this  inclement  night,  that  the  tempest  threatens  no  head 
dear  to  us." 

We  said  nothing,  for  we  knew  she  was  thinking  of 
Pierce,  who  had  been  out  in  the  wind  and  rain  so  many 
comfortless  nights,  and  who  was  now  safe  and  warm 
within  his  Father's  House. 

After  dinner  we  sat  in  the  dining-room  till  nearly  bed- 
time, all  of  us  together.  Outside,  the  rain  still  poured, 
and  there  was  an  incessant  flashing  of  lightning  across 
the  drenched  country,  so  that  at  last  we  drew  the  heavy 
curtains  to  shut  it  out. 

The  boys  had  heard  the  tales  that  Mike  O'Flaherty 
had  been  telling  me,  and  eerier  stories  still.  One  was 
that  Mathew  Hanrahan,  a  sad-faced  widower  whom  we 
all  knew,  had  seen  his  own  corpse  brought  to  his  door 
by  Brandon  river.  Another  was  that  when  they  were 
waking  a  young  woman  over  by  Barnacree  side,  the  tide 
had  risen  and  carried  the  dead  with  it  out  to  sea. 

"  I  wish  we  had  the  money,"  said  Hugh  the  practical, 
"  to  see  to  those  old  upper  rooms.  The  rain  is  in  them 
to-night,  I  daresay,  and  some  night  of  high  wind  we 
shall  have  the  chimneys  through  the  floors  down  upon 
our  beds." 

"Ah!  dear  boy,"  said  Aline,  "many  things  come  to 
Brandon,  but  never  money:  I  believe  we  shall  be  the 
poor  Brandons  to  the  end  of  time." 

"And  to  think,"  grumbled  Donald,  "that  there  are 
chests  full  of  gold  in  Angry — at  least  so  the  poor  people 
say — which  ought  to  be  ours  by  right!" 

"We  don't  grudge  Sir  Rupert  his  gold,"  said  Aline  with 
a  little  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 


THE   LAST   OF  CASTLE   ANGRY.  345 

"Not  if  the  other  things  must  be  thrown  in,  you  mean," 
said  Hugh  shrewdly.  "  But,  Aline,  we — Donald  and  I — 
are  going  to  save  the  old  place  yet." 

"  But  how,  dear  boy  ?  You  don't  know  how  much 
money  we  should  want." 

Hugh,  who  had  been  lying  on  the  hearth-rug,  stretched 
himself  all  his  young  length,  with  a  suggestion  of  a 
creature  cramped  for  space. 

"You  must  let  us  go,  Aline.  We  are  no  longer  chil- 
dren, and  there  are  fortunes  to  be  made  in  the  world." 

"But  where  would  you  go?"  asked  Aline  in  a  hushed 
voice.  Her  face  had  grown  a  little  paler,  but  she  hardly 
seemed  surprised.  Perhaps  she  had  been  dreading  some 
such  thing  for  long. 

"We  will  go  to  Africa  to  Mr.  Desmond.  He  told  us 
long  ago  that  he  should  have  room  for  us  when  we  were 
men.  Now  we  are  men,  and  he  has  room  for  us.  He  has 
opened  up  a  new  diamond  field,  as  you  would  know,  Aline, 
if  you  ever  read  the  newspapers." 

"  Must  both  of  you  go?"  said  Aline  in  the  same  hushed 
voice.  "  We  are  only  women  and  children  here,  and 
Pierce  left  us  to  you,  Hugh." 

"  There  is  nothing  for  a  man  to  do  here,  and  we  will 
stick  together  till  we  bring  home  the  ransom  of  Brandon 
in  our  hands.  We  have  friends  now.  It  is  not  as  in 
the  old  days  when  we  knew  no  one.  There  is  the  General, 
and  there  is  Captain  MacNeill  always  at  hand." 

Hugh  looked  at  me  curiously.  It  made  me  suspect 
that  he  knew  something  of  the  state  of  affairs. 

"  They  will  befriend  you,"  he  went  on  earnestly.  "Cap- 
tain MacNeill  knows,  and  thinks  we  are  right.  The 


346  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

General  wanted  me  to  go  into  the  army,  but  that  means 
cadging  on  him,  and  I  prefer,  and  so  does  Donald,  to 
make  our  fortunes." 

"How  do  you  know  Mr.  Desmond  will  help  you?"  said 
Aline.  "  He  helped  Pierce,  and  they  quarrelled." 

"  He  would  not  remember  it  against  us,"  cried  the  boys 
together. 

"He  is  coming  home,  Aline,"  said  Donald,  suddenly 
turning  all  the  contents  of  a  miscellaneous  pocket  on  to 
the  table. 

There  were  five  pocket-handkerchiefs,  a  clay  pipe,  a 
roll  of  string,  a  pocket-knife,  some  loose  matches,  a  piece 
of  shag  tobacco,  a  book  of  flies,  and  several  more  or  less 
dilapidated  wads  of  paper.  He  smoothed  out  one  of 
these  with  his  hands,  and  pointed  to  the  conclusion  of  a 
paragraph. 

"It  is  rumoured  that  Mr.  Desmond  will  spend  a  portion 
of  next  summer  in  revisiting  his  native  country." 

He  read  it  aloud,  and  then  handed  it  to  Aline. 

"  We  have  known  it  for  some  time,"  said  Hugh.  "  We 
shall  wait  till  he  comes,  and  ask  him  if  he  has  room  for 
us.  If  he  says  he  has  not,  we  must  go  somewhere  on  our 
own  hook.  We  want  no  more  from  him,  Aline,  than  any- 
one else,  but  it  would  be  less  lonesome  if  he  were  our 
friend." 

"  The  old  nest  will  soon  be  deserted,"  said  Aline,  look- 
ing round  on  us.  "  I  shall  be  like  the  wood -pigeon  we 
saw  last  summer  after  the  hawk  had  eaten  her  mate  and 
the  young  ones,  and  she  used  to  call  them  about  the 
empty  nest." 

"  The  hawk  is  the  world,  Aline,"  I  said,  "  but  the  world 


THE  LAST  OF  CASTLE   ANGRY.  347 

shall  not  swallow  us.  We  shall  be  with  you,  and  the 
boys  will  return." 

"Ah,  yes!"  said  Aline,  "they  will  return,  perhaps." 

She  got  up  suddenly  and  went  out  of  the  room,  and 
after  a  little  while,  when  we  went  to  look  for  her  we 
found  she  had  gone  to  her  room  for  the  night. 

We  went  to  bed  somewhat  melancholy  in  consequence, 
and  I  think  Esther  and  I  were  glad  to  have  each  other's 
company.  With  the  night  the  wind  had  risen,  and  as 
we  went  along  the  corridors  to  our  bedrooms  it  raved 
and  shrieked  outside,  and  whistled  through  every  key- 
hole as  though  it  were  trying  to  drown  the  noise  of  the 
thunder.  We  scurried  fast  along  the  upper  floor,  for  the 
lightning  made  the  well  of  the  staircase  as  light  as  day 
with  its  almost  incessant  flashing,  and  the  ragged  tapestry 
on  the  walls  trailed  out  like  banners,  and  flapped  in  our 
faces  as  we  passed  by. 

When  we  had  reached  my  room  at  last,  I  ran  to  draw 
the  curtains  and  shut  out  the  night.  Very  vividly  in  the 
white  lightning  I  saw  the  sister  mountains  of  Brandon 
and  Angry,  for  now  that  the  trees  were  leafless  the  latter 
showed  its  frowning  head. 

I  paused  an  instant  to  gaze  at  them,  and  as  I  did  so  the 
lightning  passed,  leaving  a  gulf  of  profound  blackness. 
The  side  of  Castle  Angry  was  towards  us  as  we  stood,  and 
I  could  see  the  flashing  of  a  light  travelling  apparently 
from  floor  to  floor. 

"  Come,  Esther,  and  look,"  I  said.  "  There  is  a  light  in 
Angry.  I  wonder  how  they  are  feeling  over  there  about 
the  escape  of  the  captive." 

Esther  looked  with  me  an  instant,  and  then  cried  to  me 


348  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

to  come  away,  for  a  zigzag  of  blue  lightning  smote  the 
head  of  Angry,  and  then  seemed  to  leap  down  the  chasm. 
As  the  thunder  rattled  and  roared  behind  it,  I  closed  the 
shutters  and  then  stirred  the  fire,  so  that  the  room  was 
cheerful. 

We  went  to  bed  after  praying  for  the  poor  people  who 
were  in  danger  from  the  night's  storm.  We  lay  awake 
for  long  talking  of  our  own  affairs,  and  of  the  boys  and 
their  resolution.  Esther  was  the  first  to  sleep.  I  looked 
at  her  where  she  lay  in  the  shadow,  smiling  in  sleep — for 
I  had  kept  a  lamp  burning  to  mitigate  the  glare  of  the 
lightning, — and  I  thanked  God  for  the  peace  the  events 
of  the  last  twenty-four  hours  had  brought  to  my  sister's 
heart.  Mine,  too,  felt  at  peace  about  her  and  her  love. 
I  remember  thinking,  the  last  thing  before  I  slept,  that 
God  was  stronger  than  Sir  Rupert  De  Lacy,  and  the 
thought  sent  me  asleep  smiling. 

When  I  awoke  the  room  was  dark,  for  the  lamp  had 
died  down.  Paudeen,  who  always  sleeps  on  a  mat  at  my 
door,  was  howling  in  the  most  melancholy  way,  but,  full 
of  horror  and  omen  as  a  dog's  howl  is,  I  did  not  think  it 
was  that  which  had  wakened  me.  For  a  second  or  two  I 
lay  dazed  and  terrified.  Then  Esther  stirred  at  my 
side. 

"Oh,  Hilda!  what  is  it?"  she  cried.  "What  a  hor- 
rible night  it  is!  I  think  something  terrible  has  hap- 
pened." 

"  I  will  see,"  said  I,  getting  out  of  bed  in  the  dark. 

As  my  foot  touched  the  floor  Paudeen  again  raised  his 
voice.  I  ran  to  the  door  and  opened  it,  and  spoke  to  the 


THE   LAST  OF  CASTLE   ANGRY.  349 

dog.  He  was  trembling  as  he  came  in  fawning  against 
my  feet.  The  house  outside  was  full  of  the  gray  dawn, 
and  on  the  glass  skylight  overhead  I  heard  the  rain 
streaming. 

But  another  sound  than  the  rain  was  in  our  ears. 
There  was  a  roaring  as  of  many  waters,  a  groaning  and 
rumbling  as  of  the  earth  itself.  One  could  hardly  say  if 
it  was  near  or  distant;  it  seemed  all  about  us. 

I  opened  the  shutters  with  a  hand  that  shook. 

"Oh,  Hilda,"  moaned  Esther  again,  "what  has  hap- 
pened? It  is  like  the  Day  of  Judgment." 

"  Something  has  happened,"  I  replied,  "or  is  happening, 
but  old  Brandon  is  safe.  I'm  afraid  there  must  be  a  great 
flood,  or  an  earthquake,  or  something,  but  we  are  firm. 
There  is  not  a  tremor  in  the  house." 

I  took  up  Paudeen,  who  was  shivering  miserably,  and 
put  him  into  my  bed. 

"There,  you  two  poor  frightened  things,"  said  I,  "com- 
fort each  other." 

But  I  did  not  feel  at  all  so  brave  myself.  Just  then 
there  came  a  knocking  at  the  door,  and  Hugh's  voice. 

"Are  you  awake,  Hilda?" 

"Yes,  and  up,"  I  answered.     "What  has  happened?" 

"I  can't  tell  yet,  except  that  I  believe  we  are  safe. 
Dress  yourself  and  come  out  till  we  see.  The  rain  is 
leaving  off." 

Esther  and  I  dressed  ourselves  hastily,  and  joined  the 
two  boys.  As  we  went  downstairs  the  twins  came  flying 
after  us,  and  we  met  Oona  coming  up  from  below. 

"  Go  up  and  see  if  Miss  Aline  is  awake,"  I  said  to  her. 
"  We  must  not  leave  an  empty  house." 


350  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

"  Don't  go  into  any  danger,  childher,"  she  said  with  a 
groan,  and  then  broke  out  into  a  string  of  wirra  wir- 
rasthrues. 

But  Donald,  who  had  been  the  first  to  open  the  hall 
door,  came  running  back. 

"There  is  a  flood  or  something  over  at  Angry,"  he 
cried.  "  Stay  back,  you  young  ones,  you  can  look  from 
the  windows;  but  there  may  be  help  needed,  and  men. 
Keep  them  at  home,  Hilda,"  he  said  to  me. 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I  will  go  to  watch  over  you  boys.  I 
dare  not  let  you  go  alone." 

"It  is  the  bog!  it  is  the  bog!"  cried  Oona  suddenly; 
"  an'  there  are  little  houses  in  its  thrack,  an'  little  chil- 
dher, an'  men  an'  women!  Oh,  Lord,  have  mercy!  The 
time  the  bog  was  out  at  Docra  five-an'-forty  years  ago, 
my  own  sister  and  her  three  little  childher  were  among 
the  dead!" 

She  flung  her  apron  over  her  head,  and  began  rocking 
herself  to  and  fro.  I  pushed  her  into  a  great  chair  that 
was  in  the  hall. 

"There,  you  children,"  I  said  to  the  twins,  "stay  with 
Oona,  and  comfort  her.  And  here,  keep  Paudeen;  he 
must  not  follow  us." 

We  shut  the  door  on  the  disappointed  twins,  and  hurried 
away  down  the  long  avenue.  The  rain  had  indeed  stopped, 
and  the  air  was  sweet  with  a  salt  breeze  from  the  sea. 
Every  minute  the  day  grew  clearer  about  us,  and  the 
morning  would  have  been  sweet  and  gentle  enough,  save 
for  the  menace  and  fear  of  the  roaring  bog. 

By  the  time  we  had  reached  the  road  it  was  day,  and 
we  came  upon  groups  of  men,  women,  and  children,  all 


THE   LAST  OF  CASTLE   ANGRY.  351 

hurrying  one  way,  and  that  way  towards  Angry.  We 
joined  the  hurrying  groups  with  a  hasty  word  or  two. 

"  Tis  the  bog,  sure  enough,"  said  a  woman  to  me,  "  an' 
in  its  track  to  the  sea  there  is  many  a  cabin.  Lord, 
have  mercy!" 

All  this  time  we  were  under  the  walls  and  the  trees  of 
Brandon  Woods.  Now  we  emerged  from  them,  and  came 
on  the  climbing  road  that  winds  between  Brandon  and 
Angry,  skirting  the  slope  of  Brandon.  As  we  reached 
it  we  saw  people  standing  in  motionless  groups,  all  look- 
ing towards  Angry.  Below  them  a  little  way  the  bog 
was  widening  like  a  sea. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  done  here,"  I  heard  Hugh  cry 
suddenly.  "  But  there  is  time  yet  to  warn  some  of  the 
people  that  the  bog  is  coming.  Here,  you  boys  that  are 
fast  runners,  cut  across  the  mountain  for  your  lives  to 
Docra  and  Doorish.  And  any  of  you  men  that  have  a 
horse,  mount  it  and  ride  to  Adeelish  and  Araglen,  and  let 
them  know  the  bog  is  out." 

The  crowd  scattered  in  many  directions,  and  as  I  saw 
the  lads,  fleet  as  mountain  goats,  speed  up  the  pathways, 
I  felt  sure  that  by  my  brother's  presence  of  mind  many 
lives  would  be  saved. 

"  Ropes  and  ladders  may  be  useful,"  he  said,  "  but  not 
here.  I  think  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  here." 

From  where  we  were  we  could  see  Angry  Woods,  but 
not  Castle  Angry,  and  the  woods  were  tossing  as  in  a 
tempest,  though  there  was  no  wind.  Hitherto  the  woods 
had  offered  some  barrier  to  the  bog.  Now,  as  we  watched, 
they  bent  one  way,  as  though  they  would  lay  their  faces 
against  the  earth,  and  then  with  a  huge  groaning  and 


352  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

tearing,  a  great  slice  of  the  centre  of  the  woods  began  to 
move. 

We  who  saw  this  terrible  sight  ran  back  aghast  at  the 
terror  of  it.  We  climbed  Brandon  higher  and  higher, 
though  we  were  already  far  out  of  reach  of  the  bog. 
Then  at  last  we  flung  ourselves  on  the  sward  exhausted, 
and  some  of  us  gained  courage  to  turn  and  look.  I  found 
Esther  by  my  side.  Hugh  and  Donald  had  vanished. 
They  were  seeing  what  could  be  done  to  save  life,  I 
knew,  as  Brandons  ought,  and  I  would  not  be  afraid  for 
them. 

But  Castle  Angry!  where  was  it?  I  stood  up  in  the 
cold  white  light,  that  showed  everything  in  sharp  lights 
and  shadows,  and  looked  with  amazement  upon  Angry 
Mountain.  The  ravine  was  full  of  the  bog,  moving,  a 
great  black  sluggish  mass.  Now  that  the  wood  no  longer 
held  it  back,  it  came  on  narrower  and  swifter.  Below  us 
in  the  valley  there  was  an  inextricable  mass  of  tree-trunks, 
mixed  up  with  debris  of  all  kinds.  But  where  Castle 
Angry  had  lifted  its  gateway  with  the  two  square  towers 
there  was  nothing  now,  nothing  but  bog. 

I  seized  Esther's  hand  and  pointed. 

"Look!"  I  cried;  "see  how  God  saves  the  innocent! 
If  the  bog  had  moved  a  day  earlier,  where  would  Harry 
De  Lacy  have  been?" 

And  now  something  more  terrible  than  all  happened, 
for  as  the  flood  came  down  from  Angry  through  the  gap 
in  the  wood,  someone  cried  out  that  there  was  a  man  or 
a  body  floating.  We  were  all  women,  and  panic-stricken, 
yet  with  some  vague  feeling  that  life  might  be  saved,  we 
turned  back  as  impetuously  as  we  had  come,  and  ran,  out- 


M436 

"THE  RAVINE  WAS  FULL  OF  THE  BOG,  MOVING,  A  GREAT  BLACK 
SLUGGISH  MASS." 


THE   LAST   OF   CASTLE   ANGRY.  353 

stripping  each  other,  as  near  as  we  dared  to  where  the 
bog  had  filled  the  valley,  as  though  it  were  the  bed  of 
a  river.  Then  we  waited. 

And  presently  there  came  down  with  the  bog  the 
wretch  we  were  unable  to  help.  He  was  crouched  on 
something,  a  plank,  or  a  tree-trunk,  what  it  was  we  could 
not  rightly  see,  for  all  was  equal  in  the  black  bog- water. 
There  he  sat,  as  one  astride  a  raft,  an  awful  image  of  fear. 

Nor  was  he  alone.  Facing  him  on  his  raft  was  a  great 
yellow  dog,  with  bared  fangs  and  bristling  hair,  as  though 
terror  had  driven  the  creature  mad. 

"It  is  Gaskin!"  said  someone,  and  then  a  moan  broke 
from  the  crowd,  but  no  one  spoke,  though  many  there 
had  cause  to  curse  his  name.  The  doomed  wretch  gave 
us  a  horrible  glare  of  appeal  as  he  swept  by,  and  his 
raft,  caught  by  the  current,  swayed  this  way  and  that 
way.  But  we  could  do  nothing.  He  was  in  mid-stream, 
and  so  he  and  the  dog  that  was  called  Venom  swung  on 
with  the  bog,  round  the  foot  of  Brandon  Mountain,  and 
out  of  the  sight  of  man. 


(  M  436  ) 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

WEDDING-BELLS. 

THE  bog-slide  claimed  but  one  other  victim,  and  that 
was  Thomas  Hanrahan,  the  widower,  in  his  Inoe 
cabin  over  to  Barnagee.  His  "fetch"  had  not  come  to 
him  for  nothing.  The  inhabitants  of  the  other  cabins 
that  stood  in  its  path  had  received  timely  warning,  or  it 
had  skirted  them.  Many  wonderful  escapes  were  re- 
corded, for  the  bog  had  crept  in  and  out  like  a  snake, 
sometimes  almost  washing  the  threshold  of  a  house,  and 
sparing  it;  and  again  it  had  widened  to  swallow  the  bits 
of  hillside  farms  that  had  been  made  out  of  blood  and 
sweat. 

It  took  its  heavy  toll  of  cattle,  and  crops,  and  sheep, 
and  of  little  thatched  cabins;  but  its  human  sacrifice  was 
small — -just  Thomas  Hanrahan  and  these  two  men  up  at 
Castle  Angry.  The  long  dttour  it  had  to  make  round  the 
foot  of  our  noble  mountain  had  saved  many  lives.  The  hill 
had  stood  guarding  the  people  till  the  warning  reached 
them,  and  now  we  Brandons  held  in  greater  love,  if  that 
were  possible,  the  beneficent  mountain  which  was  called 
by  our  name. 

Thomas  Hanrahan's  body  was  flung  up  by  the  bog 
after  some  days,  and  received  Christian  burial;  but  of 


WEDDING-BELLS.  355 

Sir  Rupert  and  his  bailiff  nothing  was  ever  heard.  The 
bog  had  swallowed  them,  and  when  at  last  it  stopped 
moving  and  was  quiet,  the  ravine  over  which  Castle  Angry 
had  stood  was  all  a  quaking  bog,  a  menace  to  any  living 
thing  that  should  set  foot  upon  it.  With  Castle  Angry 
went  all  Sir  Rupert's  gold,  the  immense  price  which  he 
had  received  long  ago  from  the  English  company  for  the 
mines,  of  which  he  had  robbed  us  Brandons.  I,  for  one, 
did  not  grudge  the  evil  gold  to  the  bog. 

And  so  Harry  De  Lacy  entered  into  his  patrimony — a 
modest  one  now — of  Angry  Mountain  and  a  score  of  rack- 
rented  farms. 

"  We  shall  be  as  poor  as  church  mice,"  said  Esther  with 
dancing  eyes,  and  red  roses  of  happiness  blown  into  her 
cheeks,  "  but  for  all  that  we  shall  make  the  people  forget 
that  once  they  hated  our  name." 

She  was  not  a  Brandon  to  be  afraid  of  poverty,  though 
her  estate  would  be  wealth  compared  with  what  we  had 
known  all  our  days.  Harry  De  Lacy  was  growing 
stronger  every  day,  and  the  air  of  beauty  and  race  which 
he  had  worn  when  first  we  saw  him  was  coming  back  to 
him  now.  As  Mrs.  O'Flaherty  said,  they  would  be  the 
handsomest  couple  ever  seen  in  our  countryside,  "and 
that,"  added  the  good  woman,  "  meaning  no  disrespect  to 
the  handsome  Brandons." 

They  were  to  be  married  on  the  threshold  of  Lent,  and 
to  have  their  honeymoon  in  Paris,  where,  after  a  little 
interval,  Lady  O'Brien,  with  her  faithful  Martha,  would 
join  them  for  the  Easter  in  Rome.  It  was  a  lovely  mild 
February,  with  the  snowdrops  in  snowdrifts  under  the 
trees  in  Brandon  woods  and  primroses  in  sheltered  places 


356  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

with  troops  of  celandines,  violets,  and  marsh  marigolds. 
Esther  was  not  to  have  a  flowerless  wedding. 

It  was  wonderful  how  Harry  De  Lacy  recovered  under 
the  influence  of  happiness.  The  shock  of  the  manner  of 
his  grandfather's  death  was  but  a  passing  one,  and  with 
his  marriage  waiting  upon  his  convalescence  it  was 
wonderful  what  strides  he  made  towards  recovery.  Dr. 
Rivers'  pride  and  pleasure  in  his  patient's  progress  lifted 
up  our  hearts,  who  had  been  anxious  about  Harry  De 
Lacy's  ultimate  recovery. 

"  He  has  a  constitution,"  the  doctor  pronounced,  "  and 
rare  recuperative  powers.  I  should  never  have  dared  to 
hope  for  so  rapid  a  recovery." 

So,  after  all,  thank  God,  Esther  was  not  to  have  a 
delicate  husband,  with  the  martyrdom  of  fear  which  that 
would  have  meant  to  her. 

It  was  only  long  afterwards  that  Esther  gathered  bit 
by  bit,  and  told  me,  something  of  the  circumstances  of 
Harry  De  Lacy's  imprisonment,  for  imprisonment  it  had 
been,  till  he  was  so  weak  that  his  bonds  might  safely  be 
relaxed.  He  had  been  ill  before  that  day  when  Lady 
O'Brien  had  sent  for  Sir  Rupert.  After  that  he  found 
himself  a  prisoner,  with  Gaskin  for  his  jailer;  and  the 
wretch  hated  him  since  his  chastisement  for  his  cruelty 
to  the  dogs. 

For  many  weeks  Harry  had  lain,  as  he  thought,  slowly 
dying  and  half-delirious  from  want  of  proper  food  and 
care.  In  those  weeks  he  was  conscious,  like  one  in  a 
dream,  of  Gaskin's  malevolent  visage  as  he  flung  him 
food  and  drink  twice  a  day.  It  might  be  years,  he  said, 
during  which  he  had  watched  the  short  winter  daylight 


WEDDING-BELLS  357 

creep  up  the  walls  and  linger  and  vanish,  and  had 
endured  the  feverish  torments  of  the  night. 

Once  he  had  thought  he  heard  voices  beside  his  bed. 

"  Tis  only  to  loosen  a  plank  'idout  on  the  lobby,"  said 
one,  "  an'  lave  the  door  open,  an'  before  he  knows  where 
he  is  he'll  be  on  the  stones  o'  the  hall  below." 

The  speech  was  followed  by  a  crackling  laugh,  and 
the  speaker  rubbed  his  hands  in  glee. 

Then  another  voice,  harsh  and  deep,  answered: 

"  No  tricks,  Gaskin,  or  by  heavens,  man,  I'll  tie  you  up 
like  a  dog  in  a  sack  and  fling  you  to  the  hounds.  Venom 
would  make  short  work  of  your  bones." 

Then  the  other  voice  answered  surlily: 

"  'Tis  all  the  wan  thing,  only  quicker,  as  lavin'  him  die 
in  his  bed." 

"And  who  said  he  was  to  die,  you  scoundrel?  If  he 
dies  through  any  fault  of  yours,  so  much  the  worse  for 
you!"  growled  the  other  voice. 

And  then  the  speakers  drifted  off  into  the  phantasma- 
goria of  dreams  and  terrors  which  were  the  background 
of  the  sick  man's  life. 

After  that  he  conceived  a  resolution  to  save  himself. 
Instead  of  rejecting  the  food  that  was  brought  him  he 
forced  himself  to  eat,  and  while  feigning  unconsciousness 
or  sleep  when  Gaskin  came  with  the  food,  he  held  himself 
in  readiness  to  guard  his  life,  so  far  as  his  feeble  strength 
would  allow,  if  it  were  threatened,  and  watched  for  an 
opportunity  to  deliver  himself  out  of  the  hands  of  his 
would-be  murderer.  In  time  Gaskin  relaxed  his  guard 
of  the  door,  believing  his  prisoner  past  helping  himself, 
and  this  was  Harry's  opportunity. 


358  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

He  had  followed  Gaskin  one  night,  and  listened  to  him 
and  Sir  Rupert  talking  over  their  whisky.  From  their 
talk  he  gathered  that  they  would  be  at  a  distance  on  a 
certain  day — that  day  of  January  on  which,  indeed,  we 
effected  his  rescue.  But  for  the  happy  accident  of 
Johnny  O'Flaherty's  venturous  approach  to  Castle  Angry 
he  would  have  made  the  attempt  to  escape  unaided, 
and  would  probably  have  died  under  the  rains  if  he  had 
not  been  recaptured. 

It  comforted  him  to  think  in  those  days  that  his  grand- 
father had  stood  between  him  and  death,  for  he  was  sure 
that  it  was  only  Gaskin's  fear  of  Sir  Rupert  had  held 
his  hand  from  murder.  To  me  it  seemed  but  a  small 
compunction  in  the  wicked  old  man,  and  I  could  not  help 
believing  it  a  part  of  his  pride  that  found  it  insufferable 
for  a  worm  like  Gaskin  to  lift  its  head  against  one  of  his 
blood.  If  Harry  had  died  in  his  bed  at  Castle  Angry  it 
seemed  to  me  that  it  would  have  been  murder,  just  as 
much  as  if  he  had  crashed  through  the  upper  floor,  as 
Gaskin  had  wished  it,  on  to  the  flags  of  the  hall.  But 
the  quality  of  gentleness  which  Harry  De  Lacy  must 
have  inherited  from  his  other  saintly  old  grandfather, 
and  which,  I  know  now,  implies  no  lack  of  courage  and 
true  manliness,  makes  it  easy  to  him  to  forgive  Sir 
Rupert,  and  even  to  regret  him  a  little  after  all. 

They  were  married  very  quietly  one  morning  by  Mr. 
Benson,  in  our  old  parish  church.  Esther  had  wanted  to 
wear  her  travelling  dress,  but  Lady  O'Brien  would  not 
have  it. 

"  You  will  be  the  handsomest  bride  in  this  part  of  the 
country,"  she  said,  "since  I  stood  up  with  poor  Peter. 


WEDDING-BELLS.  359 

Hilda  there  won't  be  a  patch  on  you,  meaning  no  dis- 
respect to  her.  And  you  sha'n't  be  defrauded  of  your 
bridal  glories.  'Twould  be  a  shame  to  me  for  ever  if  I 
let  you." 

So  Esther  had  white  poplin,  with  a  train  of  white 
velvet,  and  the  poplin  delightfully  sprigged  with  silver 
shamrocks.  And  I,  the  solitary  bridesmaid,  had  also  my 
frock  from  Paris,  a  creamy  embroidered  muslin  trimmed 
with  lace,  which  looked  the  embodiment  of  simplicity, 
but  I  am  sure  cost  a  very  pretty  penny  for  all  that.  It 
was  Lady  O'Brien's  gift,  and  I  cried  out  when  she  gave 
it  to  me  that  I  would  keep  it  against  my  wedding,  but 
she  said  no,  that  I  should  have  a  wedding-dress  of  my 
own,  and  that  she  was  to  give  it  to  me. 

"  What,"  said  she,  "  are  you  to  give  my  daughter  Esther 
rubies,  and  a  minx  like  you  be  too  proud  to  accept  from 
an  old  woman  a  tuppenny-ha'penny  silk  frock." 

So  I  laughed  and  said  I  wasn't  a  minx,  and  would  try 
to  swallow  the  frock. 

Lance  and  I  were  to  be  married  at  Whitsuntide.  I 
would  not  have  it  earlier,  because  I  could  not  bear  that 
we  should  all  hurry  away  from  Aline.  He  grumbled  a 
good  deal  because  I  would  not  fix  the  same  day  as  Esther's 
for  our  wedding,  which  most  auspiciously  was  Valentine's 
Day,  and  after  he  had  seen  me  in  my  bridesmaid's  frock 
he  was  more  unwilling  to  wait  than  ever. 

Still,  as  I  put  it  to  him,  since  we  saw  each  other  every 
day,  and  as  he  and  the  General  were  so  busy  over  those 
mysterious  preparations  at  Rose  Hill,  into  which  I  was 
never  allowed  to  pry,  the  time  would  pass  quickly  enough. 
And  it  really  did.  We  were  going  to  have  husband- 


360  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

and-wife  days  all  our  life,  and  I  wanted  my  share  of 
"  lovering "  days  like  any  other  girl,  and  so  I  had  them 
in  spite  of  my  grumbling  lover. 

I  wish  I  could  tell  you  something  of  the  state  of  felicity 
in  which  the  General  spent  those  days.  I  should  have 
thought  Rose  Hill  lovely  enough  for  anybody,  but  the 
General  said  that  when  he  was  fitting  it  up — only  last 
autumn — he  had  never  thought  of  such  a  person  as  a 
bride,  and  it  seemed  there  was  a  lot  to  be  done  for  a  bride. 

I  used  not  to  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  over  the 
General's  diplomacy  in  those  days.  I  was  supposed  to 
be  in  the  dark  entirely  about  the  suite  of  rooms  which 
was  being  prepared  for  me,  but  really  I  knew  beforehand 
almost  everything  they  would  contain.  The  General's 
way  of  finding  out  my  tastes  was  to  describe  minutely 
a  wall-paper,  a  chintz,  a  carpet,  or  a  piece  of  furniture, 
and  ask  me  if  I  thought  such  a  thing  would  "  please  a 
lady".  His  craft  would  not  have  imposed  on  Paudeen; 
but  for  all  that  those  rooms  were  going  to  be  a  tre- 
mendous surprise  to  me. 

I  was  always  wondering  in  those  days — indeed  I  won- 
der still — what  those  two  men  could  see  in  me  to  be  so 
absorbed  in  and  delighted  over.  Esther's  beauty  now, 
or  Aline's  goodness,  I  could  understand  exciting  such 
enthusiasm, — but  Hilda!  Ah,  well,  it  is  a  great  thing 
that  people  have  such  tender  delusions  about  us;  and 
surely  no  one  could  have  loved  better  than  I.  My  love 
was  adequate  if  nothing  else  was,  and  that  was  the 
thought  that  used  to  comfort  me. 

The  time  really  flew  round  till  it  was  May,  and  within 
a  week  or  two  of  our  marriage.  Whitsuntide  fell  in 


WEDDING-BELLS.  361 

May,  and  though  people  say  it  is  an  unlucky  month  for 
a  marriage,  I  was  not  daunted.  As  I  said  to  Lance,  I 
was  more  afraid  of  keeping  him  waiting  longer  than  of 
the  ill-luck,  to  which  he  replied  that  if  I  suggested  a 
further  postponement  he'd  be  obliged  to  abduct  me. 

Early  in  May  our  bride  and  bridegroom  came  home. 
Lady  O'Brien  and  Martha  had  preceded  them  by  about  a 
fortnight,  and  had  been  very  busy  with  preparations,  for 
they  were  to  live  at  Annagower.  Harry  De  Lacy  was 
going  to  farm  a  large  slice  of  land  about  Angry.  Poor 
land  that  even  our  peasant  makers-of-land  would  despair 
of,  but  he  was  full  of  theories  and  full  of  hope,  and  it 
was  pleasant  to  see  him  beginning  his  new  life  with  such 
energy,  and  Esther's  boundless  faith  in  him.  After  all, 
their  poverty  proved  to  be  quite  relative,  because  between 
them  they  possessed  an  income  of  nearly  a  thousand  a 
year,  which  is  affluence  in  our  quiet  country,  whatever 
it  might  be  in  London.  Lady  O'Brien  had  treated  Esther 
exactly  like  a  daughter,  saying  that  she  preferred  to 
ensure  her  future  against  an  old  woman's  whims. 

"For  who  knows,"  she  said  in  her  whimsical  way, 
"  but  I  might  forget  Peter  after  all  those  years,  and  go 
off  and  marry  some  fellow,  and  make  a  fool  of  myself 
over  him." 

In  this  season  of  regeneration,  a  full  share  or  new 

o  * 

brightness  had  come  to  our  dear  old  friend.  Her  rheu- 
matism she  said  she  had  danced  off  at  Essie's  wedding, 
and  when  one  of  the  literal  twins  gravely  remarked  that 
there  had  been  no  dancing,  Lady  O'Brien  answered  her 
that  it  was  only  because  she  had  not  had  eyes  to  see. 
Meanwhile  I  had  been  getting  ready  my  very  modest 


362  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

trousseau.  Aline  •  had  found  a  little  hoard  somewhere 
for  that,  and  as  we  live  in  the  centre  of  a  sewing  industry, 
my  things  were  fine  and  delicate  as  heart  could  desire. 
My  frocks  were  few  but  pretty,  and  I  was  satisfied  with 
them,  though  I  knew  that  Lance's  fingers  were  tingling 
against  the  day  when  he  should  bestow  on  me  Parisian 
gowns  and  bonnets.  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  repay  fine 
dressing,  that  it  would  but  accentuate  my  insignificance, 
at  which  he  would  smile  darkly. 

My  wedding  gown  only  arrived  from  Annagower  the 
evening  before  my  wedding,  and  when  it  had  been  carried 
up  to  my  bedroom,  and  Martha,  who  was  in  charge,  spread 
its  glories  upon  the  bed,  there  it  was,  to  my  amazement, 
a  replica  of  Esther's  splendour.  Accompanying  it  was  a 
veil,  shoes  and  gloves,  and  a  tiny  wreath  of  orange 
blossoms.  There  was  no  full-dress  rehearsal.  Martha 
was  to  stay  the  night  in  order  to  assist  at  my  toilette  in 
the  morning,  lest  anything  should  require  readjusting. 
And  though  I  was  brave  enough  to  marry  in  May,  I  did 
not  see  the  good  of  doubly  defying  the  superstitious  by 
trying  on  my  wedding  dress  beforehand. 

No  bride  ever  had  so  many  dressers  before.  I  am  sure 
the  business-like  Martha  was  rather  irritated  by  having 
so  many  eager  assistants,  though  she  was  too  admirable 
to  betray  it.  All  my  sisters,  except  Freda,  were  about 
me,  and  Lady  O'Brien  was  sitting  in  state  downstairs, 
while  the  boys  waited  in  the  corridor,  getting  in  the  way 
of  the  twins,  who  were  darting  up  and  down  incessantly 
on  all  manner  of  unnecessary  messages. 

When  I  was  quite  dressed,  even  to  the  General's  dia- 
mond star,  and  Aline's  pearl  brooch,  to  say  nothing  of 


WEDDING-BELLS.  363 

my  bridegroom's  two  splendid  bracelets,  Esther  stepped 
forward,  and,  kissing  me,  clasped  about  my  neck  a  lovely 
string  of  pearls  with  a  diamond  clasp.  I  recognized 
them  as  those  her  godmother  had  given  her  the  night 
of  her  first  ball,  and  cried  out  in  protest,  but  she  laughed 
and  kissed  me,  saying  they  would  become  me  better 
than  her,  for  whom  rubies  of  all  things  were  the  very  gems. 

So  Lance  did  not  see  my  splendour  till  we  met  at  the 
altar. 

Of  course  he  was  delighted,  but  then  he  is  always  de- 
lighted, and  I  am  not  sure  that  he  doesn't  like  me  better 
in  the  old  frock  in  which  he  first  found  me  seated  on 
the  steps  in  Rose  Hill  library;  or  in  a  pink  gingham, 
which  reminds  him,  he  says,  of  me  lying  all  crumpled  up 
in  the  ditch  the  day  of  Annagassan  Races. 

One  of  my  thoughts  when  I  stood  at  the  altar  was 
whether  Pierce  in  heaven  knew  of  my  happiness,  and 
rejoiced  in  it,  but  I  am  sure  he  did.  I  said  so  to  Aline 
afterwards,  when  I  was  alone  with  her  for  a  minute,  and 
she  kissed  me  closely,  and  said  she  was  sure  he  knew, 
and  then  she  said  sweetly  that  she  was  so  happy  in  the 
two  dear  new  brothers  we  had  given  her. 

So,  if  I  had  tears  in  my  eyes  as  our  carriage  drove  off, 
as  Lance  said  I  had,  they  were  tears  of  pure  happiness 
and  thanksgiving. 

Oona  always  said  that  if  Heaven  meant  a  girl  to  be 
married,  the  husband  would  find  her,  though  she  were 
hidden  in  a  bandbox.  And  here  were  we  two  girls  ful- 
filling that  wise  saying  of  hers,  and  marrying  the  dearest 
of  husbands  after  living  the  life  of  nuns.  I  said  some- 
thing of  this  to  Oona,  and  she  was  well  pleased. 


364  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

"  You  couldn't  have  done  better,  Miss  Hilda,"  she  said, 
"nor  yet  Miss  Esther.  The  people  do  be  saying  they 
couldn't  pick  between  your  gentlemen,  for  though  Sir 
Harry  is  as  handsome  as  a  picture,  the  Captain's  that  big 
an'  strong  an'  kind-looking." 

So  everybody  seemed  to  smile  upon  our  happiness. 


? 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

ONCE    AND    FOR    EVER. 

FREDA  had  not  been  able  to  come  to  our  wedding,  to 
my  grief.  She  had  now  been  six  months  with  Mrs. 
Des  VCEUX  in  Devonshire,  and  seemed  at  last  to  have 
found  quiet  happiness.  She  wrote  to  us  that  the  old 
blind  lady  treated  her  more  like  a  daughter  than  a  de- 
pendant, and  if  she  did  not  come  to  our  wedding  it  was 
because  she  could  not  bear  to  leave  her  in  her  darkness, 
even  for  a  little  while. 

So  after  Lance  and  I  had  been  three  weeks  at  Kil- 
larney,  which  is,  I  am  sure,  the  most  beautiful  place  on 
earth,  I  acquiesced  cheerfully  when  he  suggested  that 
we  should  cross  to  England  from  Cork,  and  wander  about 
Cornwall  and  Devonshire  for  the  remaining  weeks  of 
our  honeymoon. 

"Oh,  yes!"  I  said,  "and  we  shall  see  Freda,  shall  we 
not?  I  have  wished  it  of  all  things." 

For  somehow  I  had  felt  sad  about  Freda  being  outside 
our  happiness  during  those  momentous  times  at  Brandon. 

"As  you  will,  my  sweetheart,"  Lance  had  said,  as  he 
would  have  said,  I  believe,  to  any  proposal  of  mine  that 
did  not  involve  our  separation. 

I  wrote  to  Freda  to  tell  her  of  our  plans,  and  by  return 


366  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

of  post  I  had  a  letter  from  her  so  full  of  delight,  that  I 
felt  how  her  distanqe  from  us  all  must  have  hurt  her 
during  those  years.  She  wrote: 

It  is  the  most  ideal  arrangement,  for  Mary  Vincent 
and  Jacky  are  to  be  here  in  June.  But  as  for  going  to 
an  inn,  no  such  thing.  There  is  a  little  summer  cottage 
attached  to  this  house,  and  just  hidden  in  the  combe  be- 
yond the  garden  -  hedge.  Mrs.  Des  Vcsux  has  invited 
Mary  and  my  boy  to  spend  the  summer  there,  and  when 
she  heard  of  you,  she  begged  me  to  ask  if  you  two  would 
make  use  of  it — Mary  will  take  care  of  you  both — you 
know  how  admirable  a  housekeeper  she  is,  and  she  is  the 
soul  of  discretion.  Let  me  know  when  you  will  come.  I 
am  longing  to  see  you  and  to  meet  my  new  brother. 

We  arrived  at  Wyncombe  one  lovely  June  afternoon 
and  found  our  cottage  a  very  delicious  place.  It  was 
built  of  wood  with  a  verandah  running  around  it,  and  the 
whole  hidden  in  creepers.  The  little  valley  was  wooded 
to  the  top,  and  in  front  of  the  cottage  door  ran  a  little 
brown  stream  which  might  have  been  one  of  our  trout 
streams  at  home.  There  was  a  small  boy  of  a  very 
martial  aspect  standing  a-straddle  in  the  trellised  porch 
when  we  arrived,  with  an  unhappy-looking  fat  puppy 
pressed  tightly  to  his  breast. 

" Hello!"  he  hailed  ua  "  Where  is  Old  Soldier?  This 
is  a  soldier  dog,  Moustache  is  his  name.  He  has  to  learn 
to  shoulder  arms,  but  he  always  rolls  over." 

"  Old  Soldier  didn't  come  this   time,  Jacky,"  said  I. 


ONCE   AND   FOR  EVER.  367 

"  You  are  to  come  to  see  him  in  Ireland.  But  this  is  his 
son,  who  is  also  a  soldier." 

"  He  has  got  no  medals,"  said  Jacky,  as  he  shook  hands 
gravely.  "  Are  you  greedy  at  your  dinner,  or  will  you 
not  have  your  hands  washed?" 

From  this  speech  I  learned  that  Jacky  had  been  in- 
subordinate, and  had  perhaps  lost  a  stripe  or  two  since 
coming  to  Wyncombe. 

Half  the  cottage  was  allotted  to  us,  and  I  discovered 
very  soon  that  so  excellent  was  Mrs.  Vincent's  discipline 
that  even  Master  Jacky  respected  our  frontier,  and  was 
only  in  evidence  when  desired — admirable  small  boy! 
However,  Lance  capitulated  to  Jacky  the  minute  he  saw 
him,  so  I  expected  to  have  him  tolerably  often  in  evi- 
dence. 

Freda  came  over  to  dinner  in  a  pretty  black  gauze 
dinner-gown,  and  looked  very  fair  and  sweet  and  comely. 
She  brought  a  message  from  Mrs.  Des  Voeux  that  she 
thought  we  would  be  happier  together  this  one  evening, 
but  that  she  hoped  we  would  come  over  and  dine  the 
next  day,  and  excuse  her  not  calling  first. 

My  sister  was  delightfully  changed  for  the  better. 
She  seemed  brimming  over  with  quiet  happiness,  and  I 
could  not  wonder.  After  her  hard  and  disillusioning 
experiences  of  the  world,  after  the  stony  streets  of 
London,  it  must  have  been  indeed  delicious  to  be  in  this 
quiet  place,  surrounded  by  everything  that  kindness  and 
consideration  could  give. 

After  dinner  we  sat  in  the  verandah  and  talked. 
Lance  romped  on  the  grass  with  Jacky  and  Moustache, 
who  seemed  a  very  jolly  little  puppy  when  he  wasn't 


368  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

half  stifled  by  his  master's  loving  embraces.  However, 
as  Freda  said,  a  dog  will  stand  a  good  deal  done  in  the 
way  of  love.  Mrs.  Vincent  had  gone  over  to  keep  Mrs. 
Des  Voeux  company,  so  we  had  a  long  quiet  comfortable 
chat,  lounging  in  our  rocking-chairs,  and  with  nothing  to 
disturb  us  but  the  singing  of  the  birds  and  the  shrill 
laughter  of  Freda's  boy. 

I  had  a  long  story  to  tell  her,  the  details  of  all  that 
had  been  happening  to  us  at  Brandon.  Then  when  I 
had  done,  I  had  to  hear  all  about  her  since  she  came 
to  Wyncombe. 

"When  you  see  Mrs.  Des  Voeux,"  she  said,  "you  will 
know  what  an  an^el  she  is.  She  has  it  written  in  her 

o 

dear  face.  She  has  had  such  sorrows,  Hilda,  but  they 
have  only  made  her  more  heavenly.  It  is  a  privilege  to 
be  with  her,  and  though  she  takes  occasion  many  times 
in  the  day  to  send  me  out,  for  she  is  obliged  to  sit  in  a 
darkened  room, — she  is  not  altogether  blind,  you  know, — 
yet  I  always  come  back  into  the  shadows  with  joy.  I 
have  nothing  to  do  but  read  to  and  write  for  her;  she 
has  many  friends,  out  in  the  world,  as  she  says,  who  are 
always  needing  her  counsel  and  comfort.  Yes,  and  I 

have  to  gather  her  roses,  as  Lady  A said.  Wait  till 

you  see  our  roses,  Hilda.  You  will  be  out  of  conceit 
with  Rose  Hill." 

"Never!"  I  cried. 

"Ah,  well!"  she  laughed,  "I  suppose  immortal  roses 
have  grown  there  for  you." 

Then  she  told  me  how  Mrs.  Des  Vceux's  only  son  had 
died  in  India. 

"  Her  grief,"  she  went  on,  "  has  made  her  profoundly 


ONCE   AND   FOR  EVER.  369 

tender  and  sympathetic  to  all  mothers.  She  wanted  me 
to  have  Jacky  under  the  same  roof  with  me,  but  I  was 
afraid  his  high  spirits  might  oppress  her  sometimes. 
Still,  she  loves  to  have  him  with  her  now  and  again,  and 
he  behaves  sweetly  to  her;  and  would  you  believe  it, 
Hilda,  she  has  offered  me  the  cottage  for  him  and  Mary 
to  make  their  home  there?  She  put  it  so  delicately,  that 
they  would  keep  up  the  place  and  save  it  from  going  to 
pieces  with  damp  during  the  winter.  I  shall  be  the 
happiest  woman  on  earth.  Think  of  this  place  for  Jacky 
after  Parson's  Green!" 

"  You  accepted,  of  course?" 

"  I  cried  with  joy.  She  only  suggested  it  this  evening 
before  I  came  over,  and  I  was  already  so  full  of  joy  at 
the  prospect  of  seeing  you.  '  Ask  your  friend  Mrs.  Vin- 
cent, my  dear,'  she  said  in  her  humble  way,  '  if  she  will 
do  me  this  great  favour.'  And  I  just  took  up  her  dear 
old  hands  and  kissed  them,  and  said,  '  You  shall  ask  her 
yourself  when  she  comes  this  evening,  and  see  what  she 
will  say.'" 

"  She  will  like  it,  Freda?" 

"Like  it!"  cried  Freda.  "It  is  what  we  have  dreamt 
of  for  our  old  age!  We  used  to  plan  that  when  Jacky 
was  grown  up  and  a  successful  man,  he  would  make  just 
such  provision  for  us  two  old  ladies.  But  that  it  should 
come  while  Jacky  was  still  a  little  boy  and  dependent  on 
us,  with  years  of  his  childhood  still  to  come, — we  never 
dreamt  of  such  happiness  as  that." 

"You  poor  dear!"  said  I,  "the  Hazeldines  ought  to 
have  done  that  for  you.  It  would  not  have  cost  them 
much." 

(M4S6)  2  A 


370  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"Oh,  that  reminds  me!"  said  Freda.  "Since  I  came 
here  Lady  Hazeldine  heard  from  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Des 
Voeux  of  me  and  what  I  was  doing.  She  wrote  me,  for 
her,  a  really  humble  letter,  saying  how  shocked  she 
and  Sir  John  had  been  to  learn  that  their  son's  widow 
had  had  to  earn  her  bread  and  her  child's.  She  implored 
me  to  forgive  anything  that  had  occurred  between  us, 
and  to  come  to  them  to  live  with  them,  or  to  make 
arrangements  to  live  independently  as  I  would.  Poor 
woman,  when  I  read  the  letter  all  resentment  faded  out 
of  my  heart. 

"  I  explained  that  I  couldn't  leave  Mrs.  Des  Voeux  just 
at  present,  but  it  was  love  which  kept  me,  not  servitude. 
I  said  I  was  happier  in  my  working  life,  and  did  not  feel 
now  that  I  should  care  to  give  it  up,  but  said  I  would 
come  whenever  Mrs.  Des  Voeux  could  spare  me.  I  am 
going  to  them  in  the  autumn  for  a  while  with  Jacky, 
while  Mary  takes  my  place  with  Mrs.  Des  Voeux.  I  am 
very  glad  to  be  at  peace  with  Jim's  people.  The  differ- 
ence between  us  has  hurt  me  all  those  years." 

"  They  will  be  delighted  with  Jacky,"  I  said. 

"  Lady  Hazeldine  has  seen  him.  She  drove  down  to 
Parson's  Green  as  soon  as  she  heard  where  he  was, 
making,  I've  no  doubt,  a  fine  sensation  for  Grove  Avenue 
with  her  carriage  and  pair.  She  cried  over  Jacky,  poor 
woman,  and  he,  ungrateful  monkey,  just  wriggled  out  of 
her  embrace.  'You  aren't  my  grandmother,'  he  said  flatly. 
'I've  a  mother  and  a  Gran,  (that's  what  he  calls  Mary 
when  he  doesn't  call  her  by  her  Christian  name)  and  lots 
of  aunties,  but  I've  no  grandmother.'  Poor  Mary  was 
horrified,  and  tried  to  persuade  him  of  the  relationship, 


ONCE  AND   FOR  EVER.  371 

but  he  stuck  to  his  own  opinion.  'If  you  were  my 
grandmother,'  he  said,  '  you'd  have  taken  me  for  a  ride 
in  that  carriage  long  ago.'  The  poor  woman  felt  it 
acutely.  She  wrote  and  told  me  about  it.  Tour  boy 
was  right,  Freda,  she  wrote,  that  is  the  sting  of  it.  But 
for  Jim's  sake  you  will  teach  him  to  love  and  forgive 
'me." 

"Oh,  poor  woman,"  vSaid  I,  "I  am  sorry  for  her!" 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Freda,  "  but  Jacky  is  terribly  uncom- 
promising. And  how  strange  it  is  that  the  Hazeldines' 
good-will  comes  to  me  now  that  I  am  independent  of  it! 
Last  year,  or  the  year  before,  it  would  have  meant 
deliverance." 

The  next  evening  we  went  over  to  the  Court  to  dine. 
It  was  a  delightful  house  in  the  midst  of  rose  gardens, 
and  when  we  had  gone  into  the  shaded  drawing-room, 
we  found  roses  everywhere,  in  bowls  and  vases  and 
baskets,  so  that  the  room  was  as  sweet  as  the  sunny 
garden.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  sweetness  sat  the  dear 
white-haired  old  lady,  with  her  thin  hands  in  the  lap  of 
her  black  silk  gown,  and  her  figure  wearing  the  ineffable 
look  of  patience  that  comes  to  the  blind.  Freda  intro- 
duced us,  and  then  the  dear  old  lady  made  me  sit  beside 
her,  and  held  my  hand  and  patted  it. 

"  I  can't  make  out  your  face,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  but 
I  always  think  I  can  imagine  what  people  are  like  from 
touching  them.  Even  your  hands  tell  me  you  are  fair 
and  soft  and  sweet  like  your  dear  sister,  who  has  done 
so  much  to  brighten  my  life  since  she  came." 

Then  she  held  Lance's  hand  a  minute  and  congratulated 
us  so  sweetly  on  our  happiness,  and  read  us  a  little  homily 


372  THE   HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

on  the  married  life,  to  which  we  both  listened  as  reverently 
as  if  we  were  in  church. 

Jacky,  who  had  been  specially  invited,  arrived  just  then 
looking  very  spruce.  He  came  in  with  the  most  sedate 
little  air  imaginable,  and  getting  round  to  Mrs.  Des 
Voeux's  side,  bent  down  and  kissed  her  hand. 

"  You  dear  boy,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  on  his  curls, 
"where  did  you  learn  your  pretty,  pretty  ways?" 

"  It  is  Jacky 's  way  of  expressing  affection,"  said  Freda 
proudly,  "  and  no  one  taught  him.  It  just  came  to  him 
untaught." 

Beyond  the  shaded  drawing-room  we  saw  the  dining- 
table  through  an  arch  with  looped-up  curtains.  Candles 
with  green  shades  were  lit  among  the  profusion  of  roses, 
though  it  was  still  broad  sunlight. 

"  You  won't  mind,  my  dears,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  my 
not  dining  with  you.  I  can't  stand  the  light  nor  con- 
demn others  to  darkness,  so  I  have  a  little  wheeled  table 
brought  in  here  with  my  dinner." 

Just  then  a  tall  dark  gentleman  stepped  in  by  the 
French  window,  as  if  he  were  very  much  at  home. 

"Hello,  Trefusis!"  cried  Jacky,  from  where  he  was 
squatted  on  the  ground  by  Mrs.  Des  Voeux. 

"Is  that  you,  John,  my  dear?"  said  Mrs.  Des  Voeux,  as 
he  came  up  to  her  chair. 

Then  she  introduced  him  to  us  as  "  Our  squire  and 
neighbour,  Mr.  Trefusis." 

I  was  rather  surprised,  for  Freda  hadn't  said  a  word 
of  this  neighbour,  who  was  evidently  very  much  at  home 
in  the  house. 

Mr.  Trefusis   dined  with  us,  and  we  found  him  ex- 


ONCE   AND   FOR   EVER.  373 

tremely  pleasant.  He  was  a  grave,  thoughtful-looking 
man,  with  melancholy  eyes.  Freda  told  us  afterwards 
that  he  had  lost  his  wife  in  the  first  year  of  their  marriage, 
and  had  since  spent  a  life  absorbed  in  study  and  reading. 

"  He  is  much  younger  than  he  looks,"  she  added. 

I  could  quite  believe  that,  if  it  were  only  because  of 
the  terms  of  camaraderie  on  which  he  was  with  Jacky. 
Jacky,  indeed,  treated  him  precisely  as  if  they  were  of 
an  age,  and  it  was  delightful  to  see  them  playing  cricket 
together — Jacky  about  the  height  of  his  bat,  and  the 
two  as  grave  as  possible. 

I  said  one  day  to  Mrs.  Des  Vceux  how  much  we  liked 
Mr.  Trefusis. 

"  John  Trefusis  is  a  good  man,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  a 
good  man,  and  one  can't  go  beyond  that.  He  has  suffered 
a  great  deal,  but  I  pray  there  may  be  happiness  in  store 
for  him  yet." 

That  first  opened  my  eyes  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Trefusis 
was  in  love  with  my  sister.  Indeed  it  was  patent  enough 
once  we  had  the  clue.  But  Freda — that  was  quite  an- 
other matter.  That  she  knew  I  could  not  doubt,  from 
the  little  half-vexed  consciousness  she  betrayed  once  or 
twice  under  his  regard,  but  of  love  I  could  find  no  slightest 
sign. 

One  day  Freda  and  I  were  together,  and  Freda's  son 
was  delivering  his  mind  on  many  matters,  as  was  his 
way  when  his  commanding-officer  was  not  present. 

"  Aunty  Hilda,"  said  he  to  me  suddenly,  "  have  you 
long,  beautiful  hair  like  mother's?  And  would  you  mind 
very  much  if  I  were  playing  with  you  and  pulled  it  all 
down?" 


374:  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

"  Of  course  she  would  mind,"  said  Freda.  "  No  lady 
likes  to  have  a  rowdy  little  boy  like  you  pulling  her  all 
to  pieces." 

"'Cept  you,"  said  Jacky;  "but  then,  of  course,  you're 
not  a  lady,  you're  only  mother.  You  remember  that  day 
I  had  pulled  down  all  your  hair  when  Trefusis  came  in." 

"Jacky!"  said  Freda,  with  a  little  blush  of  annoyance, 
"  you  are  talking  too  much,  and  you  know  you  must  say 
Mr.  Trefusis.  I  am  always  telling  you  so." 

"  I  sha'n't,"  said  Jacky  flatly.  "  He  calls  me  '  Shaver ', 
and  I  call  him  Trefusis.  We  understand  each  other." 

Freda's  eyes  twinkled.  She  was  used  to  Jacky's  in- 
subordination with  her,  and  I'm  afraid  rather  condoned  it. 

"Well,"  said  Jacky,  embarking  on  his  tale,  "mother 
and  I  was  playing  at  bears  in  the  hall  one  wet  morning. 
'Cause  it  was  so  wet  we  didn't  think  anyone  would  come. 
Mother  was  going  round  on  the  floor  growling,  with  all 
her  hair  down.  I'd  pulled  it  down  in  the  bear's  hug,  and 
she  wanted  to  put  it  up,  but  I  said  to  her, — '  I  say,  you 
leave  it  down  'cause  I  think  it  pretty ',  and  so  she  left  it." 

"  Oh,  Jacky,  Jacky,  you  silly  boy !"  cried  Freda  laughing. 

"  Well,  all  of  a  sudden  I  looked  up,"  said  Jacky,  "  and 
there  was  Trefusis  in  the  doorway.  'Hello,  Trefusis!' 
said  I.  But  instead  of  saying  'Hello,  Shaver!'  he  never 
said  a  word,  but  stood  staring  at  mother.  I  s'pose  he 
couldn't  see  her  because  her  hair  was  all  over  her,  or  else 
he  was  'mazed  at  her  for  playing  bears.  Then  mother 
got  up  and  just  twisted  her  hair  round  anyway,  and  went 
out  of  the  room,  and  didn't  come  back  for  a  long  time. 
And  Trefusis  stood  staring  at  the  door,  till  at  last  he 
'membered  me,  and  looked  at  me  and  said, '  Hello,  Shaver!' 


ONCE  AND   FOE  EVER.  375 

though  it  was  quite  hours  since  I'd  said  to  him  '  Hello, 
Trefusis!"' 

"Jacky,  Jacky!"  cried  Freda,  "here  comes  Gran,  and 
not  a  minute  too  soon.  Do  you  think  your  Aunty  Hilda 
wants  to  be  bored  by  an  egotistical  little  boy  like  you?" 

Jacky  was  carried  off  incontinently  to  have  a  fresh 
toilet  made — his  toilet  seemed  always  in  need  of  readjust- 
ment— and  after  he  had  gone  I  turned  and  looked  at 
Freda. 

She  looked  back  at  me  steadily,  and  again  the  wounded 
and  angry  flush,  which  I  had  seen  once  before,  rose  in 
her  cheeks.  Her  foot  tapped  the  ground  impatiently. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  thing  for  Jacky,"  I  said  wistfully, 
for  I  liked  Mr.  Trefusis. 

"Never,  Hilda,  never!"  said  Freda.     "How  can  you 
think  of  it,  loving  your  husband  as  you  do  ?     The  Hazel 
dines  will  take  care  of  Jacky,  but  if  they  did  not,  I  could 
still  refuse  him  such  a  sacrifice  as  that.    I  will  meet  Jim 
with  my  marriage  vow  to  him  unbroken." 

The  tears  flashed  in  her  eyes  as  I  bent  to  kiss  her. 

Poor  Mr.  Trefusis! 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  KESTORATION   OF   BRANDON. 

AFTER  all,  who  do  you  think  it  was  of  all  the  Bran- 
dons that  brought  the  fortune  back  to  Brandon? 
You  would  never  guess.  Well,  it  was  Aline,  and  now  I 
will  tell  you  how  that  came  about. 

During  the  months  that  elapsed  between  my  marriage 
and  the  autumn  when  Mr.  Desmond  was  expected  to 
revisit  the  "old  country",  Hugh  and  Donald  worked 
quietly  but  indefatigably  to  fit  themselves  for  anything 
that  might  turn  up  in  the  life  of  a  new  continent.  They 
were  already  expert  riders,  and  could  handle  a  gun,  as 
they  could  an  oar,  with  absolute  dexterity.  They  had 
grown  to  be  big,  sunburnt,  handsome  lads  in  their  free 
and  wholesome  life,  and  never  knew  an  ache  or  a  pain, 
so  they  were  made  of  the  fine  raw  stuff  of  pioneers.  But 
in  the  last  months,  acting  on  my  Lance's  advice,  they  set 
themselves  to  learn  the  rough-and-ready  rudiments  of 
the  simpler  trades,  to  shoe  a  horse  with  Teddy  Murphy 
at  the  forge,  to  cobble  a  shoe  or  mend  a  joint  in  a  horse's 
harness  with  Farrell  the  brogue-maker  and  Byrne  the 
harness-maker,  and  many  such  useful  arts. 

They  were  full  of  the  joy  of  the  new  life  that  was 


THE   RESTORATION    OF   BRANDON.  377 

coming  to  them,  scenting  the  battle  of  the  world  far  off  like 
the  horse  in  the  Scriptures,  and  yet  preparing  for  it  with 
a  gravity  and  responsibility  which  came  of  their  deep- 
rooted  conviction  that  they  were  going  to  redeem  Bran- 
don. They  had  time  now  to  make  their  own  and  their 
family's  fortunes,  now  that  the  gray  old  wolf  was  no 
longer  at  Castle  Angry  waiting  upon  our  need. 

"If  Sir  Rupert  had  lived,"  Hugh  said  to  me  once, 
"  one  or  other  of  us  must  have  stayed  to  watch  him,  but 
now  we  shall  go  with  minds  at  rest." 

Poor  Aline  watched  their  quiet  preparations  with  un- 
protesting  pain.  In  her  heart  I  think  she  was  proud 
that  they  had  asserted  their  manhood,  though  that  heart 
bled  all  the  time  with  fear  of  how  that  dragon,  the 
world,  might  overcome  them.  We  were  always  trying 
to  console  her,  pointing  out  to  her  how  this  and  that 
mother's  son  went  and  conquered  and  returned  in  safety. 

"Ah!"  she  would  say,  "is  it  easier  for  me  because 
other  women  suffer?  I  shall  be  glad  when  they  return, 
but  let  me  have  my  grief  now  that  they  must  go." 

Then  the  time  came  when  we  heard  that  Mr.  Desmond 
had  come  back,  and  was  staying  in  the  Brandon  Arms, 
as  he  had  done  six  years  ago  before  he  took  away  our 
Pierce.  And  when  we  heard  he  was  there  Lance  sug- 
gested that  we  should  go  and  call  on  him  and  ask  him 
to  take  up  his  quarters  at  Rose  Hill,  seeing  that  he  had 
been  Pierce's  friend.  Lance  was  keen  also  to  see  the 
man  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much,  whose  qualities 
of  all  others  were  those  that  appealed  to  him. 

But  when  we  arrived  at  the  rough  little  place  they 
call  the  Brandon  Arms  we  found  that  Mr.  Desmond  had 


378  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

gone  out.  As  we  turned  away  rather  disappointed,  the 
landlady,  Mrs.  Fahy,  came  hurrying  after  us. 

"I  think,  ma'am,"  she  said,  "that  Mr.  Desmond  may 
have  gone  to  Brandon,  for  there  was  a  boy  here  with  a 
bit  of  a  note  from  Miss  Brandon  herself  in  the  morning, 
and  when  Mr.  Desmond  came  in  and  read  it  he  just 
ordered  his  chop  and  immediately  after  went  out  again. 
I  shouldn't  be  surprised  now  if  you  were  picking  him  up, 
if  so  be  you  took  it  into  your  head  to  walk  towards 
Brandon." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Fahy,"  said  I,  "I  think  we 
shall." 

And,  sure  enough,  when  we  went  into  the  drawing- 
room  at  Brandon  there  was  the  man  himself  sitting 
astride  a  spindle-legged  chair,  and  talking  earnestly  with 
Aline. 

They  made  a  curious  contrast,  he  with  his  big  frame 
and  rugged  face,  his  great  hands,  with  their  look  of  grasp, 
resting  on  his  knees,  and  his  rough  colonist's  clothes,  and 
she  so  fair  and  dainty  and  refined,  with  her  almost  old- 
world  dignity.  She  was  wearing  a  tea-gown  which  had 
been  easily  adapted  from  our  great-grandmother's  ward- 
robe, a  brocade  of  the  colour  the  French  call  ashes  of 
roses,  a  queer,  elegant,  faded  thing,  with  old  lace  at  the 
neck  and  wrists.  I  saw  at  once  that  Aline  had  made  a 
toilette  for  Mr.  Desmond,  and  guessed  at  her  tender 
reason.  She  did  him  so  much  honour  in  the  hope  that 
he  would  more  surely  be  a  friend  to  her  boya 

As  we  came  through  the  ante-room  unannounced  Mr. 
Desmond  was  speaking,  and  I  signed  to  Lance  not  to 
disturb  him  till  he  had  finished. 


M436 

"I  CAN  ONLY  SAY,  MISS  BRANDON,  THAT  I  LOVED  THE  LAD 
LIKE  A  SON." 


THE   RESTORATION   OF   BRANDON.  379 

"I  can  only  say,  Miss  Brandon,  that  I  loved  the  lad 
like  a  son,  and  would  have  saved  him  from  pain  and 
trouble  just  as  if  he  had  been  my  son.  But  I  have  had 
a  rough  life,  and  did  not  know  how  to  manage  a  lad 
like  him  when  it  came  to  a  delicate  matter.  I  can  only 
say  what  a  deep  grief  it  has  been  to  me." 

"  Oh,  no,  no!"  said  Aline  with  her  handkerchief  at  her 
eyes.  "He  said  that  no  one  could  have  been  more 
patient,  more  wise,  and  tender  with  him  than  you  were. 
I  can  never  thank  you  enough." 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  could  have  saved  him,"  the  man 
answered  in  his  deep  and  musical  voice. 

Then  we  went  in,  and  Aline  introduced  us  to  Mr. 
Desmond.  He  and  Lance  fraternized  at  once,  if  one  can 
talk  of  fraternizing  in  a  case  like  this,  where  my  husband 
sat  and  looked  at  the  elder  man  with  a  boyish  expression 
of  hero-worship  on  his  face,  and  listened  with  such 
deference. 

There  was  a  curious  nobility  and  simplicity  about  the 
man.  Whatever  his  successes  had  been  in  the  world,  it 
was  easy  to  see  that  they  had  not  been  obtained  by  craft 
and  guile  or  by  trampling  on  weaker  men.  Seeing  that 
we  were  interested  in  what  he  had  to  tell  he  talked  with 
simple  unconsciousness  fully  and  freely. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  in  answer  to  Lance,  "  it  is  lonely  to 
come  back.  There  are  nettles  growing  round  the  hearth- 
stone of  the  little  cabin  where  I  was  born,  and  the  last  of 
my  kin  is  laid  to  rest  long  ago  in  Brandon  Abbey.  Still, 
the  mountains  and  the  woods  are  the  same;  it  is  the 
same  country.  I  sat  to-day  for  a  long  time  on  the  stile 
where  I  used  to  sit  when  I  fetched  the  water  from  the 


380  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

well  for  my  mother,  and  I  remembered  how,  the  day  I 
was  leaving  her,  she  ran  after  me  to  the  stile  to  kiss  me 
again,  for  the  last  time  it  proved.  Yes,  it  is  lonely  to 
come  back,  but  the  old  memories  are  sweet  too." 

He  said  nothing  at  all  of  what  we  knew,  how  his  wise 
and  generous  benefactions  had  made  many  a  one  rejoice 
at  his  coming  back. 

After  a  time  Lance  told  him  how  we  had  looked  for 
him  at  the  Brandon  Arms  with  the  hope  that  he  would 
come  and  stay  with  us  at  Rose  Hill,  but  he  declined, 
although  very  cordially. 

"  I  never  know  when  the  fit  will  take  me,"  he  said 
laughing,  "  to  roam  about,  and  I  should  hopelessly  disor- 
ganize your  hours  and  your  servants'  ways.  Besides, 
my  old  school-fellow,  Mary  Fahy,  would  take  it  as  a 
slight  upon  her  place  if  I  were  to  desert  her.  Let  me 
instead  come  in  of  evenings  to  smoke  a  pipe  when  I  like, 
—may  I?  May  I,  Mrs.  MacNeill?" 

"  Indeed  you  may,"  said  I. 

Just  then  the  boys  came  in,  full  of  repressed  excite- 
ment. They  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Desmond,  and  then 
retired  into  a  distant  corner,  where  they  sat  and  glowered 
at  their  great  man,  in  whose  hands,  although  he  did  not 
yet  know  it,  their  fate  lay.  But  he  seemed  almost  as 
much  interested  in  them  as  they  were  in  him.  His  keen 
eyes  followed  them  into  their  obscurity. 

"Those  great  fellows,"  he  said  to  Aline,  "they  were 
little  lads  when  I  was  here  before.  Yet  they  were  ready 
to  follow  me  into  the  wilderness." 

For  a  minute  the  silence  was  electrical.  Then  one  or 
other  of  the  boys  broke  silence. 


THE   RESTORATION   OF  BRANDON.  381 

"  We  are  ready  to  follow  you  now." 

Mr.  Desmond  stood  up  slowly,  revealing  his  great 
height. 

"  What,  still  of  the  same  mind?"  he  said.  "  Come  over 
here  till  I  look  at  you." 

The  boys  came  out  of  their  corner  and  stood  before 
him  side  by  side,  their  eyes  bright  with  excitement.  The 
thing  had  come  about  much  sooner  than  we  expected, 
and  as  I  turned  to  look  at  Aline  I  saw  that  her  head 
was  drooping,  and  her  fingers  plucked  nervously  at  the 
lace  of  her  gown. 

Mr.  Desmond  looked  at  the  boys  a  minute  or  two,  and 
they  looked  back  at  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  said, "  I  remember.  You  wanted  to  come 
with  me,  and  I  said  that  I  had  room  for  men,  and  that 
when  you  were  men,  if  you  were  still  of  the  same  mind, 
I  would  find  room  for  you." 

"  And  now  we  are  men,"  said  Hugh,  "  and  we  are  still 
of  the  same  mind." 

"  We  have  been  learning  smith-work,  and  mason- work, 

~  * 

and  carpentry,  and  other  things  that  we  thought  might 
be  useful  to  us  when  you  had  found  room  for  us,"  said 
Donald,  "  and  we  are  ready  to  go." 

"What,  both?"  said  Mr.  Desmond,  and  then  he  turned 
to  Aline.  "  You  would  trust  them  to  me,  Miss  Brandon?" 

"Yes,"  said  Aline  in  a  low  voice,  "I  have  told  them 
they  might  go  if  you  would  have  them." 

"  Thank  you!"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  full  of  feeling. 
We  knew  he  felt  that  she  had  trusted  him  with  Pierce, 
and  Pierce  had  come  home  only  to  die,  and  now  she 
trusted  him  with  those  two. 


382  THE  HANDSOME   BRANDONS. 

"  Thank  you!"  he  said  again.  "  God  helping  me,  I  will 
fulfil  your  -trust." 

After  that  we  saw  a  great  deal  of  Mr.  Desmond,  and 
he  was  often  at  Brandon.  There  were  naturally  many 
arrangements  to  be  made  about  the  boys,  and  Aline  con- 
fessed to  me  that  Mr.  Desmond's  affection  for  Pierce  and 
grief  for  his  death  had  brought  the  silent  strong  man  of 
the  people  closer  into  her  friendship  than  perhaps  any 
man  had  ever  penetrated  before. 

He  was  to  leave  in  October,  and  the  boys'  simple  out- 
fits were  ready,  and  we  had  begun  to  dread  the  coming 
parting,  for  Aline  more  than  for  ourselves.  It  was  no 
unusual  thing  now  to  find  Mr.  Desmond  at  Brandon 
when  we  went  over  of  an  afternoon,  so  that  when  we 
went  in  one  of  those  last  evenings,  and  saw  him  standing 
by  the  mantel-piece  looking  down  at  Aline's  bent  head, 
and  Aline  visibly  agitated,  we  felt  no  surprise.  The  air 
was  surcharged  with  emotion  just  then. 

We  sat  down,  and  made  some  ordinary  remarks,  and 
then  I  asked  if  it  had  been  settled  about  the  date  of 
departure,  a  matter  which  had  been  still  under  discus- 
sion when  last  we  had  met. 

"  Mrs.  MacNeill,"  Mr.  Desmond  answered  me  in  a  half- 
shy,  half -humorous  way,  "  it  is  possible  that  the  sailing 
may  be  indefinitely  postponed  after  all." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  cried,  without  a  glimmer  of 
the  truth. 

He  bent  and  lifted  Aline's  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"Your  sister  has  done  me  the  immense  honour,"  he 
said,  "  of  consenting  to  be  my  wife." 

Well,  we  were  all  delighted  beyond  measure — all  but 


THE   RESTORATION   OF  BRANDON.  383 

the  boys,  who  were  bitterly  disappointed  at  being  cheated 
out  of  their  for  tune -hunting,  so  disappointed,  indeed, 
that  Mr.  Desmond  at  last  persuaded  Aline  to  consent  to 
their  going  out  to  the  charge  of  his  lieutenant,  Mr.  Allen, 
whom  he  trusted  entirely,  for  such  time  as  they  chose  to 
stay. 

"If  they  have  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  they  will  be 
happy  nowhere  else.  If  not,  it  will  take  the  edge  of  the 
appetite  off,  and  they  can  come  back  to  any  career  they 
choose,  that  I  can  open  for  them." 

So  Aline  was  married — by  poor,  faithful  Mr.  Benson, 
who  had  the  sympathy  of  us  all — and  the  boys  went.  A 
year  later  Hugh  returned,  but  Donald  stayed  where  he 
was.  He  is  in  Cape  Town  now,  managing  that  part  of 
John  Desmond's  immense  business,  and  next  year  he  will 
be  in  London,  so  that  you  may  say  we  will  all  be  re- 
united again.  Hugh  entered  Sandhurst,  and  is  now  a 
very  handsome  young  soldier,  much  in  love  with  his 
profession. 

But  as  soon  as  Aline  and  he  had  settled  down  after 
their  marriage  Mr.  Desmond  set  about  restoring  the 
ancient  glories  of  Brandon.  Bit  by  bit,  and  with  the 
utmost  reverence,  the  dear  old  house  was  restored,  and 
made  more  beautiful  than  our  wildest  dreams  could 
have  imagined. 

Aline  is  now  quite  a  great  lady,  much  sought  after  in 
Society,  beside  whom  her  younger  sisters  are  quite  humble 
folk.  But  more  than  that,  she  is  a  happy  and  proud 
woman,  and  as  for  the  good  she  and  John  Desmond  do 
unostentatiously,  that  is  written  in  the  hearts  of  the  poor, 
and  in  the  books  of  Heaven. 


384  THE  HANDSOME  BRANDONS. 

The  twins,  by  the  way,  were  of  the  debutantes  this 
year,  and  are  counted  among  the  beauties  of  the  Season. 
But  I  don't  think  admiration  or  newspaper  paragraphs 
will  make  them  vain  or  worldly,  for  have  they  not  been 
brought  up  by  Aline,  who,  like  a  certain  royal  saint,  goes 
splendidly  to  honour  her  husband's  position,  but  directs 
the  eyes  of  her  most  meek  spirit  ever  towards  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven. 


THE  END. 


PRINTED  AT 

THE  VILLAFIELD  PRESS 

GLASGOW 


